Thanatos Ascending
by My Name is Alice
Summary: I was 5 yrs old when the memories came—after all the hysterical denial, violent anger, and heart wrenching depression in public bathrooms, I came to the reluctant realization that I was Miura Haru—in a world where I was a confused lost gone jumbled fragile girl all over again. A world where no one could save me—I'm alone. I'm so so alone—I hated being so human. I hated it. [?/SIOC]
1. Pilot

**...**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn. Any characters and/or familiar plots in this fan fiction belong to Akira Amano. Anything unfamiliar with the audience belongs to me.**

Chapter 1

Pilot

Today… oh _god_, today… was _not _a good day…

I woke up late, was greeted with a parking ticket on my windshield because I was _one inch too close to a fucking fire hydrant_, wasn't _allowed_ to turn in homework I so _painstakingly_ stood up half the night for due to my tardiness, flunked a test in a different subject I had a suspicion I was _failing_, nearly _slammed_ my head onto my desk as I _tried not _to nod off, had to rush to a gas station to save my crappy car from _dying_ on me, was _begged _to take closing shift at work, and had one of those infamous arguments children have with their parents that leave their kids absolutely _loathing _their lives right in the little closet known as the staff room.

I inhaled deeply, nose and mouth buried in my cupped hands, _bundling_ all of my feelings into a _tight tight _ball and _swallowing_ fiercely, the tears just _waiting _and _waiting _to trail down my cheeks in a _rush _of—

_Damn… Damn. Damn! _Damn! **Damn it! God! Damn It!**

I had always believed I could do this. I liked to think that I was stronger than others took me for. But this… This… _I don't think I can do this... _

I could _feel_ something _breaking..._

"Alice?" I jumped, letting my face fall into an expression of neutrality as I looked towards the open door. Lacie stood there, a towel wrapped around her body in self consciousness. She looked mildly embarrassed and a little annoyed, if the way she was looking everywhere said anything, "Can I get into the big pool now?"

"No." I responded immediately, my voice cracking in the middle. I cleared my throat in slight shame for being caught looking uncharacteristically breakable and stood, throwing the cellphone I had slammed on the table into my bag, "You're not good enough for the big pool, we'll start in the small pool."

She frowned, not liking my response in the slightest (apparently), "How come Celia gets to be in the big pool then?" She asked, eyes following my movement towards her in an almost scrutinizing manner.

I raised my eyebrows at her at the challenge, unable to raise simply one eyebrow, and paused briefly to stare at her incredulously, "Because she knows how to swim. Unlike you." _Well, _I admitted mentally, _she knows how to tread at least._

"Only because you taught her first." She continued in a mumble, following after me like a little duckling.

"Duh. It's so she can work here too. Here, give me your towel." I ordered, throwing it on the lifeguard chair I should be occupying instead of teaching. "I'll let you get in the big pool if you don't pass halfway, got it?"

"Yeah, yeah," She said, rolling her eyes and jumping in as quickly as possible to hide the unevenness of her developing body. I sighed a little at her rushed movements, because I saw what she was so self conscious about, but believed she shouldn't be, if loving yourself was anything to go by.

_Ahaha, I'm such a hypocrite._

"Here." I threw her a blue kicking board, "warm up for two laps, then we'll work on your freestyle."

She mumbled something I couldn't hear and did as I said. I glanced at Celia in the next lane, taking note of her faltering backstroke, before spreading a sign that read of the lanes unavailability due to "lessons."

I spent a good chunk of the "closing lifeguard shift" teaching my sisters how to swim (out of the water, of course, which was kind of difficult considering their levels), and my lack of efficiency was beginning to frustrate me when—

"Excuse me?"

"Yeah?" I responded, managing not to snap, and straightening up from fixing Lacie's diving position.

"Can I get a kick board?" A thin, older woman asked me, dark hair peeking from the ends of her pink swim cap rather childishly. "Yeah," I answered, glancing at a relaxing Lacie, "Stay there," before heading towards the storage room. I grabbed the first board I saw, an orange one, before walking back out and handing it over to the awaiting lady, "Here you go—"

"_MA—!" _

My skin crawled at the short yet _raw _expression of _terror. _

I turned my head towards the voice sharply, and barely registered Lacie flailing in the water before I _ran _to the other end and _dove. _My clothes weren't baggy, yet the water seemed to add a burdensome weight to my freestyle that resulted in awkward, stiff, movements that only made my heart pound _faster _and _faster _because I can _see _Lacie going _under—_

"Hey!" I yelled, in panic and frustration at her flailing limbs, "Calm—!"

I was close enough for Lacie to latch on to me, and the moment she did, I swallowed a mouthful of water as she pushed me down. My first instinct was to go up and breathe, but I'd been in water for a long enough time that I was able to control this instinct and calm the brief flutter of panic at my chest. Instead, I pushed at the girth of my little sister's abdomen and let her head pop up enough for her _inhale _and _calm the fuck down _because if she continued to panic we would _both drown._

Now, there was a reason I had to be _begged _to take the lifeguard shift, since I wasn't certified and was uncomfortable with the responsibility of the task. And there was a reason why, despite all the time I spend in the water as a swim instructor, I wasn't a strong swimmer: because I was self taught, and had no competitive experience. This didn't stop me from being a proficient teacher, obviously, since I was able to successfully teach multiple kids in all four strokes and a racing dive, but right now, the fact of all of this couldn't have hit me any harder or faster.

_I'm not strong enough to pull her out of the water._

_I'm not strong enough to save her._

_I am _**not strong** _enough to _**save** _her._

And to my racing heart and mind, I could only think, _She just needs air, she just needs air, she just needs to breathe, someone will help, Celia will pull her out, she just needs air, she just needs air, she just needs to breathe—_

My lungs were about ready to burst, and I slowly exhaled to give them more time to last—but this only made me _sink_ and **god—**

My thighs were burning from my continuous breaststroke kick, and the more I exhaled, the more I sank, and the more and more my arms strained to keep the girl above water.

My fingertips left the skin of her belly, and I heard a gurgle that set my heart ablaze and thoughts racing desperately with, **No!** _NotHerNotHerNotHerNotHer!—WHERE _IS _EVERYONE?—WHY WON'T _ANYONE HELP?!—_They'll come soon! They're coming!—They'recomingThey'recomingThey'recomingThey'recoming!—Breathe! Just breathe! She just _**needs to breathe!—**_Comeon!Comeon!Saveher!Saveher!_She's drowning!—WHY _AM I _**FAILING?—**_Heretheycome! They'realmosthere! Justalittlebitmore!Justalittlebitmore! _Just a little bit more!

There was a pressure building against my temples, and my eyes stung from the chlorine in the water. I unconsciously inhaled and felt a familiar, _yet unfamiliar_, feeling encase my chest and throat—my ears popping at the sudden invasion and depth—_It hurts! _It hurts! **Make it stop!**

My mind was slowing down, and my muscles were getting heavier and heavier. I found it harder and harder to _think _or even _will _myself to continue, but the words continued to repeat themselves over and over—_Ihavetosaveher!Shecan'tdie!Ihavetosaveher!Shecan'tdie!—COMEON!COMEON! _**COME ON!—**_Justalittlemore!Justalittlemore!Almostthere!—DON'T YOU _**DARE** _DIE ON ME!_

I was sinking I belatedly realized, and any sudden movements would send everything inside of me to—AAHHH! _It hurts! It hurts! _**It hurts!—**_WHERE _IS _EVERYONE?!—_**Make it stop!—**_She's dying! Sheisn'tbreathing!No!No!Not yet!—COMEON!COME ON!—WHAT KIND OF BIG SISTER _**AM I?!**

The splashing sounds of flailing limbs were gone, and the sudden silence made everything go numb in relief because—

_Thank god._

_THANK _**GOD!**

_She's_ **okay.**

—someone pulled her out in time.

A vague instinct pierced my mind at the previous thought: _Swim. Surface. Air. _I kicked once, twice, and felt the tension in my mind pop.

The world went dark.

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><p><strong>Thanks to:<strong>

**MissEccentricWriter **(for that summary!)

**Teafully **(for proofreading!)

* * *

><p><em>Haha... Eccy and I broke up...<em>

_This story, along with my popular (surprisingly) fic, _Chariot of Helios, _will be priority._

_Updates should be frequent, until school starts up again that is, but I'm not promising anything._

_Please review!_

_—Alice_


	2. Chapter 2

**...**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn. Any characters and/or familiar plots in this fan fiction belong to Akira Amano. Anything unfamiliar with the audience belongs to me.**

Chapter 2

Where Alice Menendez Becomes One With Miura Haru

_Miura Haru was born Tuesday, May 3rd, in Namimori Hospital at 21:12:15, at 7 lb 8 oz._

I was five years old when the memories came. I didn't understand any of it, especially since the images began mingling with my present ones: a girl named Alice, a mathematician for a father, baby sisters, the Japanese language, a single mother, Spanish, English, laughing, crying. My head cramped and it hurt _so much_ that I couldn't tell what was real and what wasn't. It became so bad that my mother—_No, _Miura Haru's mother—did not hesitate to find help for her child—_Īe… _Miura Haru.

Nothing was wrong.

And the worried look she kept on passing me when she thought I wasn't looking reminded me of my past mother. The panic and fear on her face whenever I accidentally mixed fluent English and Spanish with my Japanese, the fear whenever I didn't understand or recognize her...

I wanted it to stop.

So…as soon as I got my bearings, or as soon as Miura Haru and I's train of thought merged for a common goal...I pretended it never happened.

It took a few weeks to convince her it was all just an attention seeking lie. Even then, she looked skeptical, but as time passed and I clutched my head behind a door, stifling my cries against my knees as the last memories settled, she smiled and pretended it never happened.

Somehow… when the memories finally settled down...after all of the hysterical denial, violent anger, and heart wrenching depression in public bathrooms to avoid detection, I came to the reluctant realization that I was Miura Haru. No matter the different personalities or different experiences, all of the memories and influences were cramped into one head so perfectly both the original Haru and I were intertwined in an intricate pattern that no one could detangle.

I was Miura Haru.

Well, sort of.

I was a _new_ Miura Haru.

And you know what's even worse? Having all of those memories and unconsciously comparing _everything_ around me. For one, I had a father here, and the perks of being a single child were wonderful, albeit lonely. And...I missed my mother...a strong, proud woman with the strength to raise three girls without breaking down once. And if she did, she had the good sense not to do it in front of us. Heh heh, how stupid of me to realize how much we had in common only now… Here, my mother was the epitome of femininity. No calloused hands or pained feet. No heavy eyelids, or weary sighs. There was such a delicacy here...

It _scared_ me. Would I grow to be like her to? I had taken pride in my mental strength, and the thought of being as _feminine, _maybe even _weak,_ as Miura Haru was, or as she was portrayed…

_No no no._

It scared me.

To the core.

I didn't want to be like that.

It went against everything I believed in.

I was _not _weak!

And my sisters… Celia, Lacie...they were annoying, just like all siblings, there's no doubt about that. But you know what? I love them. How couldn't I? I had practically raised them. Heh heh. Maybe I'm being conceited, but the thought… was too beautiful for me to give up. I took care of them, I willingly did wrong so that they wouldn't repeat my mistakes, I feed them, I cleaned up after them, I laughed with them, I made them cry, they made me cry, they hurt me, I hurt them, I yelled and cursed and _begged _them to do what was right, all because I _love _them.

I was raised with the belief that blood is thicker than water. And upon curiosity, I remember asking Celia, "What would happen if I died? Hypothetically speaking." And she answered with, "If you died… haha, I don't want to think about it." Upon my insistence, she answered with, "I honestly don't know." Annoyed, I demanded a guess, "Well… I feel...that Ma would be so consumed in grief she would lean on Lacie… Lacie's still a baby, so she wouldn't be able to take the pressure and wear maturity as a disguise, never growing up. As for me…" she sighed, "I'd have to pull on my pants and support the family. I'd have to replace you as the foundation, Alice."

I had felt so touched. To think that I had such a big role… "What flowers would you bury me in?" She had answered immediately, "White lilies." I had been disappointed, "That's it?" She thought about it, "Roses and arums too, then." I turned away, "Bury me in poppies." I had muttered.

And now…looking back... I regret a lot of things. One of them being the lack of, 'I love you,' spoken that day. But they aren't stupid! They know I love them. I had said so. Multiple times.

Multiple times… Heh heh. Maybe I was being conceited again...

But, dying after an argument...maybe it wasn't the best way to go...

_And that was when Alice Menendez became one with Miura Haru._

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><p>Miura Emi was a beautiful woman with long, perfect curls of the darkest ebony (usually tied in a side ponytail), and eyes that put the night sky to shame in their depth and amount of stars. Her lips were a pretty pink and her smile would light up a room. Her laugh could dispel disease and her singing could end poverty.<p>

She was not unlike Maria Veronica.

"What a shame such a beautiful woman married such a plain man." A mother whispered, none too discreetly. My hand twitched, the action nearly making me miss my grip on the uneven bars. _Calm down, calm down, _I exhaled, disturbing the few tendrils of hair that escaped my high ponytail. _I'm getting tired of these_—

"I wonder why she chose Miura Kazuo out of all the suitors she had." A meek brunette muttered, brushing back her son's hair.

_That's it. _I landed, pausing to make sure I had caught my balance, my routine earning polite claps from the spectators. I bowed quickly before pivoting on my right foot and making my way over to the benches, violently tearing off my gloves in annoyance.

"Haru~!" I was suddenly thrown up into the air, my squeal nearly concealing the laugh my mother emitted. "That was amazing~! Mamma's so proud of you~!" She sat and placed me on her lap, slender fingers tickling the sides of my leotard.

"Okāsan!" I snapped, trying to keep a straight face and failing. "I-I got to—" I became breathless with giggles. "T-Those women—" Tears were collecting at the corners of my eyes!

"It's okay, Haru." She breathed into my neck, making me pause. I felt her sigh ruffle my hair as she pulled me closer to her, voice weary. "It's okay."

I frowned. "No, it isn't—" She tickled me again, leaving my sides sore and my lungs burning. _Why am I so ticklish! _I wasn't this ticklish in my past life!

"They don't know anything," She continued, once I had calmed down. She righted me in her lap, smooth fingers fixing my hair. "Okāsan is very happy with Otōsan." I stared at her, snapping my head away at her happy expression. _Now I know why J.M. Barrie said Wendy had a kiss at the corner of her mouth..._

"If what they're saying is true," I mumbled, curious and a little embarrassed at my thoughts, "Why _did _you marry Otōsan?" It was a strange combination. Miura Kazuo was a plain man in every aspect, which only increased my respect for him.

She blinked, then smiled widely, leaning forward so our foreheads touched to rub our noses together. I flushed at the show of affection. "Because Otōsan makes Okāsan happy, and now, he makes Okāsan and Haru happy." I blinked, letting the words process in my mind.

"Okay." I mumbled, wondering why her use of third person made everything easier to understand. _Is that why Miura Haru spoke in third person?_

"Come on, I think you're done with gymnastics today. We'll go shopping after you clean up." I nodded my assent, wanting to desperately leave this place and get a cold shower while I was at it.

"Okay." She smiled at my response, making my chest flutter as I shakily grinned back at her. "Oh, that reminds me." She lifted me into her arms, placing me on her hip as she picked up her bag with her left hand. "What do you want for dinner Haru-chan?"

I thought about it. "Tempura." I answered.

She laughed.

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><p><strong>Thanks to:<strong>

**Teafully **(thanks a lot!)

**Dustflame **(haha, got lots to think about, yeah!)

**10th Squad 3rd Seat **(haha, lessons don't seem to help)

**Not-Gonna-Update **(thanks a lot! your words were...inspiring? haha)

**BrokenAria **(thanks a lot! i feel as if you know what i'm planning...)

**Yamamoto Fan **(here you go. thanks a lot!)

* * *

><p><em>Sorry... that's all I've got to say.<em>

MissEccentricWriter _and I originally planned a collaboration where she was Kyoko and I was Haru. We broke up, but I really wanted to continue, so this story was born! Uh... I hope this story is to your tastes. _Butterfly of Thanatos _is more solidly planned out in my head than _Chariot of Helios...

_Anyways! Please review!_

_—Alice_


	3. Chapter 3, Omake

**...**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn. Any characters and/or familiar plots in this fan fiction belong to Akira Amano. Anything unfamiliar with the audience belongs to me.**

Chapter 3

How Miura Haru and Ran Shiro Parted that Summer + Omake

**Age: 6**

"Ne, Haru-chan?" The voice made me jump, the black butterfly quickly fluttering away in a panic. _Damn..._

"Hm?" I mumbled, looking up and watching Shiro's eyes catch the white _tsubaki_ I had previously been studying before the butterfly had arrived. _Strange color, it was…_

He cocked his head, tearing his gaze from the flower to meet my eyes. I blinked at him, signaling him to continue. He walked over, crouching next to me to look at the white camellia. We didn't speak, the sound of the wind and buzzing of bees filling the silence.

"You seem different." He said, his voice blending well with the background noise. The warmth of his body against mine was prominent and strangely comforting as my mind slowly processed his words.

_Different? He noticed? _That was impressive, for an eight year old. Especially since he only started to play with me this summer… Then again, weren't children strangely perceptive? "Is that good?" I asked, looking at the white haired boy at an angle.

"Mmm…" He stared at the single flower intently, lavender eyes unwavering. "I don't know." He answered finally, head snapping over to me with a grin. "But I like it!"

I looked away, exhaling in a rush; a habit I carried from my past life to expel either nervousness or tension or to just regain my breath. "I guess it's a good thing, then." _Wonder why he didn't like Miura Haru before my memories came back… _

"Ne, Haru-chan, are you coming next year too?" He asked, a strange expression on his face. I looked at him a moment, searching his eyes for idiocy. I found none.

It was a silly question. We came to the island of Sado every summer to visit my grandparents on my Otōsan's side (they were a gentle elderly couple who deserved to pass on in their sleep). But I didn't blame the boy, he was a neglected child, and he liked to boast I was his best friend with a large grin on his face despite the fact I was only going to be here two months a year.

Besides, I liked him. He was fun to be with.

"I think so." I replied, extending my hand to break the flower's stem. It was really pretty, and I was filled with a childish desire to keep it near myself until it wilted.

"Haru-chan!" Shiro's voice was so loud and _against my ear _that I jumped, hand flying to my chest in panic.

"What?! What is it?!" I looked at him with a pounding heart, feeling my expression fall when he leaned forward and cut the camellia, presenting it to me with a grin on his face.

"A going away present." He nearly laughed, making my shoulders slump at the innocent action.

"You scared me!" I exhaled, trying to pinch my annoyance away. _He _is _giving me a flower, _I thought in hopes of convincing myself of his innocence. Which he had. Of course he did. He was eight. "Thank you, Shiro-kun." I said, taking the flower from his hands. _Oh well…_ A drop of blood splashed on the pavement in between us and I stared at it, mind slowly processing...

"Huh? Shiro-kun did you cut yourself?" I asked, voice rising at the end uncomfortably (which I hated to admit, since I thought I grew out of that).

"Hm?" He brought his hand forwards, palm upwards, and I took his wrist to better see the thin cut on his fingertip. "I guess I did." He said with a small smile. _Kamisama, he's almost as bad as Yamamoto… _

"At least it isn't bad," I sighed, bringing his forefinger to my lips. My tongue ran along the small wound, the taste of blood sharp in my mouth. I looked up when the boy didn't respond to my action, because this might be awkward despite saliva being good for wounds—my heart nearly stopping at the look in his eyes.

_Why...are his eyes unnerving me?_

Because those are not the eyes of an eight year old.

I knew little of Ran Shiro. Other than him being a product of an arranged marriage by the island's two most prominent families, and thus suffering from neglect despite all of the people he was surrounded with. I knew he hadn't grown with the love and care Miura Haru had grown up with, and maybe his childhood was worse than Alice Menendez's. _Is that why Shiro didn't like Miura Haru? _Because she was too innocent? Did my sudden maturity catch his eye? Still, I found it amazing he smiled the way he did. It was definitely inspirational—

_Wait._ Was his face getting closer?!

He didn't look away from my eyes as he leaned towards me, the air between us warm and humid. He breathed against my face and I found my lungs curling into themselves at the lack of oxygen, my ears ringing.

_Is he…is he going to…?_

Yes, he was. He brought his wounded index finger to my chin, my hand tightening around his wrist in nervousness. My eyelids unconsciously slid half-closed as I inhaled sharply, the older boy following my example as our lips met. It was a chaste kiss, the skin barely brushing but definitely prominent. He leaned forwards some more, the pressure against my lips increasing. When the blankness of my mind faded to clear thought I pushed against him, mind racing on what to do next.

I had only kissed one boy in my past life, and I couldn't think of a way to keep this PG fast enough.

So when he broke the kiss, and looked at me with a curious look in his eyes, I was never more grateful for Miura Emi in this short life.

"Haru! We're leaving!"

I jumped, face burning when Shiro blinked. "Um, I, uh, gotta go, so, I'll—" I swallowed, mouth dry. "I'll see you next summer!" I shot up, running as fast as my little six year old legs could take me. I promptly tripped, arms waving wildly as I caught myself with a squeak, ears hot as I felt the boy's lavender gaze drill into me.

"Did you say good-bye to Shiro-kun?" Okāsan asked with a smile after I had slammed the car door behind me, watching as I fiddled with my seat belt from the passenger seat.

"Yes!" I snapped involuntarily, heart thudding. "Can we go now?"

She blinked, confused. "Did you get in a fight with Shiro-kun?"

"What?" I frowned, perplexed on how she came up with such a reason. Then I remembered what happened. "No! No! No, we didn't fight!" I shook my head fiercely, cheeks warming.

She cocked her head, watching me with dark eyes that made me blush harder. "I see…" Her gaze lowered to the white camellia still in my hands, and a smile slowly formed on her face. "Oh…" She drawled, hiding her grin behind her hand. "I see."

Was I a tomato yet? "No! No, you don't see!" I argued, groaning when she nodded and agreed with me.

Otōsan seemed lost in the conversation, and I deftly turned towards the window, grumbling under my breath as Miura Emi hummed happily.

_Stupid, tsubaki._

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><p><strong>Omake: What He Was Thinking<strong>

Ran Shiro had a vague memory of Daichi (the family butler) telling him kisses were for people he liked. So when Miura Haru looked at him with large brown eyes framed by long eyelashes that made him think, _Haru-chan's really pretty…_, he was filled with a burning curiosity that needed to be satisfied immediately.

He had leaned in, happy as she grew nervous at the lack of personal space, proud of himself at causing such a reaction. Her lips were slightly chapped due to the changing weather, he remembered her saying, but it didn't deter his surprise when she kissed him back.

When he pulled away, he cocked his head and evaluated his feelings, coming to a conclusion he didn't doubt for a moment. _Yup. I like Haru-chan. _

His amusement only grew when she became a flustering, blushing mess, her stutters only making his smile widen due to their usual lack of composure. _Hm~? Haru-chan's cute this way too._

He watched as she shot to her feet and ran away, his spine straightening in alarm as she tripped, yet soon relaxing as she caught herself. He didn't move as she jumped into the car and went away, the thin dust clouds vanishing a little too quickly.

He hummed to himself, tongue tracing his lips.

_I want to kiss Haru-chan, again._

May the audience please note Ran Shiro's feelings were anything _but _romantic.

Yet.

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks to:<strong>

**10th Squad 3rd Seat **(yeah, thanks a lot!)

**KiraLoveless **(hm...don't know about that. here's that update!)

**DaughterofDemeter123 **(_yes! _i understand completely! as for femininity conflicts...we'll see about that ;)

**Dustflame **(haha)

**Not-Gonna-Update **(what do you think, now?)

**JollyLoser **(haha, here we go, then)

* * *

><p><em>Haha, the Omake's last line made me laugh. So? What do you think? That was my first time writing anything <em>but_ first person. I hope that was good._

_I've got a lot of things planned for this. I hope you all will like it._

_Please review! Please?_

_—Alice_


	4. Chapter 4

**...**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn. Any characters and/or familiar plots in this fan fiction belong to Akira Amano. Anything unfamiliar with the audience belongs to me.**

Chapter 4

Where the Presence of the Mafia Becomes Apparent

**Age: 7**

Miura Emi, is daughter to Italian architect, Durante (nicknamed: Dante) Incubo, and Japanese housewife, Akane Jigokuno. Her husband, Miura Kazuo, having taken the summer break to be spent in the island of Sado with his own parents, resulted in Emi claiming rights to having the winter holidays spent in her hometown: Venice, Italy.

Thus, began our yearly adventure.

The Miura family hopped on a plane, landed in the Marco Polo International Airport, took a taxi into the Venetian Lagoon, and met the Incubos after riding a waterbus and walking along the cobblestones for several minutes.

The smoothness of the visit still reminded me of the one two years prior.

Back then, my memories had just settled and Dante Incubo's smile had immediately dropped upon meeting my eyes for the first time. He subtly insisted on not touching me and he stared at me so intently and for such a long time over the course of a few weeks, that it made me paranoid to the point of, _Stop! Stop it!_—_Why_—_doesheknowdoesheknow—NoNoNo_—_bullshit bullshit bullshit!_—_nowaynotpossiblecan'thappen—nonono—please lookaway lookaway pleaseplease_please!—_HIS EYES—HISEYESHISEYESHISEYES_—_STOP LOOKING AT ME!_—STOP! _STOP IT!_—_MAKEIT_STOP!

He never _said_ anything.

And then… near the end of my stay… slowly yet surely, he began to treat me like the granddaughter I was supposed to be. And the feeling was _SO GOOD _and _WARM _and _YESYES_FINALLY!FINALLY! that when the realization came, I failed to hold in the tears and startled the fat pigeons in St. Mark's square in my deficiency.

This time around, Dante Incubo spoke to me with the maturity I was entitled to, yet treated me with the spoiling qualities a grandfather bestowed his granddaughter. It was a nice relationship. One that gave off the feeling of, _he knows—I don't need to pretend—he_knows—_thankgod!thankgod!thankgod!—Idon't_needtopretend!_, _around him.

It was...peaceful. Blissful. Everything I _needed _in a world where I was a confused _lost_ gone jumbled _fragile _girl all over again.

A world where no one could save me.

So when the heartbreakingly handsome man asked me if I wanted to go to his weekly chess club with him, my first reaction was a hurried gasp of, "Let me get changed."

It was one of the few times he ever asked me to accompany him anywhere, since he usually asked me where I wanted to go and I answered because who wouldn't want to explore Venice, Italy? _But_ I wasn't a fan of chess. Or any kind of board came for that matter. Yet I was curious on _why _Dante Incubo would suddenly want me to come.

When I got what I _believed _to be an answer, it started the _doesheknowdoesheknow—NoNoNo_—_bullshit bullshit bullshit!_—_nowaynotpossiblecan'thappen—nonono—pleaseplease_please! cycle all over again.

Because the opponent Dante Incubo spoke of so fondly was Timoteo, Ninth Boss of the Vongola Famiglia.

I took in a shaky breath, trying to calm the drumming of my heart and erraticness of my blood flow. I was suddenly grateful of the tightening of my grandfather's hand around my knuckles. _Does he...does he _know? _Why else would he_—_?_

"—and this is my granddaughter, Miura Haru." He was speaking Japanese, which was strange, since I would have expected him to introduce us in Italian.

"Hello, Haru-chan," The old man smiled, leaning forward to better give me a view of his short, yet thick, eyelashes. I fidgeted a bit under his gaze, thoughts of _ohmygod ohmygod_—_isthisreal_—_amIdreaming_—_I'm dreaming_—_I_must_bedreaming_—_I_havetobe_dreaming_—because—_thiscan'tbehappening_—_this_can't_behappening_—because—because—

Timoteo of the Vongola Famiglia...here in front of me…

It made it _so so _real.

And it _scared _me.

Someone _**save me**__._

"My name is Timoteo."

I **know.**

His Japanese was good. Very good. "_Ciao."_ I managed to respond through the lump clogging my airway. "_Piacere di conoscerti."_ I even brought out my hand to shake, _praying _the ligament didn't tremble, and he took it with a laugh, mustache twitching in a sad impression of mirth, eyes softening.

And I thought, _he thinks I'm scared of him, _as his wrinkled-and-roughly-calloused grip on my hand grew gentle in a wistful sort of way.

"What a smart girl you are, Haru-chan." He chuckled, leaning back in his chair and settling his staff on his knees. He looked curious, and I allowed Dante Incubo to set me on his lap with the chessboard before us, my hands on my knees to keep them from playing with my hair nervously. "Do you know any other languages?" he asked, glancing at me as he carefully moved a white pawn forward.

I hesitated, wondering if I should even be interacting with this man. I worked at my jaw, stopping myself from nibbling on my lower lip just in time. "Go ahead, Haru." Dante murmured, placing his chin on the top of my head with a reverberating _thump_. I succumbed to the temptation and gnawed at my lower lip, slightly vexed at the way Dante made everything seem so _easy. _"English." I muttered, questioning on whether or not to add more languages. "And Spanish," I gave in, although reluctant on even continue out loud, "but not as well." It was embarrassing to admit that despite growing up with Spanish as my first language, I quickly outgrew it with English. And it shamed me to admit it. I had been losing a connection to my heritage.

Ironically, I _did _(being reborn Japanese with some-fraction-I-didn't-bother-to-calculate-Italian). And the ability will continue to deteriorate if I don't start working on it as soon as possible. Which I didn't want.

Timoteo smiled pleasantly, snatching up a black rook with a deftly practiced movement, "My, you can speak four languages at your age, Haru-chan?"

I shrugged, trying not to blush at the sudden glee his comment gave me (even if it was slightly teasing), because in all honesty, _I have a knack for languages, _and there were a few more I wanted to learn as well. I was already getting the hang of French, and maybe Latin or Ancient Greek would come next.

"Goodness, what a granddaughter, Dante." Timoteo chuckled, light brown eyes watching Dante's long fingers knock over his white knight. My grandfather's chest rumbled with pride, the vibrating of his throat at the back of my head causing me to blush in happiness.

It was a beautiful feeling. Being acknowledged this way.

The _best_.

"Yes. I'm a lucky man." He kissed my temple; the action so swift and heartfelt, my face exploded with the heat of both pleasure and embarrassment. "She's just like her mother." He continued, pulling me closer to his chest.

The blush faded a little, since Dante's statement was a lie. Because honestly, how could I ever be like Miura Emi?

"Really?" The Vongola Ninth Boss looked skeptical, cocking his head slightly to the side, fingers intertwined under his chin. "I find that unlikely." And then he smiled, the sun filtering through the large windows and reflecting off of the sea water of the Grand Canal lighting the left side of his face. It created a feeling of such pure _happiness_ and _delight _straight from the heart that I found myself blushing in awe at the sight.

_This… _**this **_is the smile of a _Sky.

I was left breathless.

_Kamisama… _

"Well, Haru-chan," Timoteo leaned forward, smile still in place, eyes closed. "I feel as if we'll be seeing each other a lot from now on. How about you start calling me, Nonno? I'm sure your Ojiisan won't mind."

Dante scoffed at the old man's teasing tone, but I wasn't paying attention.

"Okay." I said, the word coming out in a breath, the rush of air waking me from my stupor. The daze left and I was allowed to smile for the first time in this silently pensive room filled with the _clack clack clack _of chess pieces from the other tables set apart from the windows.

Was it strange? That I wasn't weary of him anymore?

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks to:<strong>

**KiraLoveless **(haha, thanks?)**, reviewerguest **(thanks, your right, but it's a secret!)

**Dustlfame **(haha, your review made me laugh so hard)**, 10th Squad 3rd Seat **(meh, yeah, but he's two years older than Haru)

**Colorful Sky **(yes! but it's a secret!)**, MissEccentricWriter **(what are you doing here? shouldn't you be working on your own fanfiction?)

**Not-Gonna-Update **(haha, i'd love to see your reactions! they sound interesting!)**, DarkinocensDLT **(here you go)

**little101 **(sshh! it's a secret!)**, Jessy **(yes! but it's a secret! you can't tell anyone!)

**Allykrau **(sshh! yes! but it's a secret!)**, Kenegi **(haha! i bet you do!)

* * *

><p><em>Well, everyone seems to have guessed correctly in assuming Ran Shiro <em>SpoilerAlert! _is Byakuran, but Haru won't be knowing this until later on!_

_In other news, I'm swamped, so updates will slow down, as said in my other fanfiction, _Chariot of Helios, _but _at the very least, _I'll try to update once a month, _the most,_ maybe twice or three times?_

_I'll try my best._

_Uh...nothing much to say here, so,_

_Please review!_

_—Alice_


	5. Chapter 5

**...**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn. Any characters and/or familiar plots in this fan fiction belong to Akira Amano. Anything unfamiliar with the audience belongs to me.**

Chapter 5

Why Miura Haru and Ran Shiro are Bonded

**Age: 8**

"Shiro-kun," I tried again, an anxious coil tightening in my gut. "I _really _don't think—"

"Shh!" He pivoted, placing a finger on my lips to silence my protests. He grinned mischievously, bringing the finger to his own mouth. "We have to be _quiet_, Haru-chan." He whispered, turning forward again before I could say anything. I didn't move when he began sneaking forward again. My lack of presence at his back caused him to look over his shoulder soon enough anyways. Possibly seeing the hesitance on my face, he leaned forward, took my hand in his, and gently coaxed me into following him.

"Mm…" I swallowed another complaint, since I _was _curious about the inside of the Ran Estate, having only seen it from the outside. So far, the hallways were surprisingly wide and finely polished; the sun filtering through the paper doors lit up the faint dust motes in the air and caused a sleepy sensation to infiltrate the place. Even from what little I've seen, I could already feel the _age _and _care _put into preserving this ancient house. It was undeniably beautiful, and I caught myself from staring off into space at the green of plants through parted door slats.

But my appreciation for it only made this visit worse, since Ran Shiro had snuck me in through the back door with a key he had made just for me, and we were currently avoiding all personnel just to get to his room…

I just _knew _something bad was going to happen…

The situation absolutely _called _for it…

"Shiro-kun—"

Dread suddenly weighed me down.

_Inhale._

"Shiro." I spun towards the voice, tense and embarrassed and ashamed at being caught. My mind raced to come up with a million excuses, mouth parting to explain my recklessness, but it shut closed in shock.

The sight of a petite woman with long white hair that flowed down her back in loose waves, caught my full attention. There was a purple orchid woven into the right side of her hair that complemented her colorful kimono very nicely, and she rose the tea cup in her small hands to her cupid bow lips as she studied me over the rim. Her eyes were gray, the color so light it made her pupil seem foggy, especially with the bright color surrounding her. "What do you think you're doing?" She asked, long eyelashes brushing her cheeks in a slow blink.

I swallowed.

She… she was…

_Kamisama, she's beautiful._

And I was jealous.

"Okāsan." Shiro greeted, his voice making me glance at him and lessen the pressure building at my collar. There was a smile on his face, the action so _fake _and _stiff _and _emotionless _it made my chest tighten in— "This is my friend, Miura Haru."

He shifted the smile at me, and it melted to a much more genuine one that calmed me down and lessened my worry for him.

_He's okay. _Exhale. _He's _fine, _but…_

_There's something—_I inhaled deeply, forcing down the painful beating of my heart. "Ohayō." I greeted, bowing appropriately. "My name's Miura Haru. Nice to meet you." I made sure to use the formal form of _Yoroshiku onegaishimasu, _since I didn't want her _not _liking me; her being my friend's mother and all.

"Friend…" She echoed, her eyes looking me up and down slowly, almost hypnotically. The action was so unnerving, it made the hairs at the back of my neck rise on end. "Haru...kun…"

The honorific was a blow to my pride. Since she was stating her superiority over me…

Even if it was _slightly_ true. Age-wise.

"_Hai?"_ My voice cracked, and I frowned at the blunder, clearing my throat to rid of it. I tightened my grip on the boy's hand in sudden uneasiness, and he responded by taking a step closer to me, pressing his shoulder against mine. The contact relaxed me, and it allowed me to school the slight shaking of my knees from behind a neutral facial expression and rush of exhaled breath.

The action didn't escape his mother's attention.

"I see…" She breathed, looking away, almost as if in a sigh. Carefully, she placed the tea cup on the table, the action using too much caution and making the hairs along the back of my neck to stand on end. "Haru-kun…" She began, looking me in the eye again. Goosebumps appeared on my flesh at the way she looked at me. There was something about her tone that was _frightening_—"I'm afraid that being friends with Shiro—"

"Murasaki—" I jumped at the sound of another sliding door opening, the presence of another human being taking me off guard and increasing my skittishness. The man who suddenly appeared immediately zeroed in on my intruding existence, his lavender eyes narrowing with—

"Otōsan," Shiro greeted with another smile, this one not as tense as the one he had given his mother, but still so painfully obvious and _there_. "This is my friend, Miura Haru."

I swallowed, my heart against my throat. The forced casualness was _slowly,_ _choking_— "Ohayō." I greeted again, bowing; so very _very _tempted to just stare at the floor to escape the attention. To run away. But my pride wouldn't allow it. And my stubbornness wasn't helping. "My name's Miura Haru, nice to meet you."

I straightened to catch his surprised blink, lavender eyes quickly glancing at the woman to his left. Their eyes met and the temperature in the room suddenly dropped several degrees, their looking away causing the pressure to thicken and build and _press _against a spot right between my eyes in a more _irritating _fashion than _painful_—

I exhaled, the action shaky and I'd like to believe _visible _at the coldness I was feeling against my skin. With a sudden boldness I had hoped I could have held on to, I managed a, "Is there—?"

"Kiiro—" a hiss of warning towards the male—

"I'm leaving." The man interrupted, turning and walking out of the room with a few long strides that were _too _quick and casually forced—

I waited, heart pounding, but as the door closed and Ran Murasaki continued to sip her tea with the smallest of annoyed frowns on her face and no goodbyes or pleasantries were uttered, I came to a realization that made me go breathless…

There was no love in this home.

_there'snolove...there'snolove...there'snolove_—

Was this a **home **then?

"Daichi."

_there's_—

"_Hai."_ A man suddenly appeared, taking me by surprise and making my flesh crawl at the sudden _bombardment _of _thoughts _and _feelings _and _instinct_—My mind was muddled with _there'snolove there'snolove there'snolove! _and it couldn't keep up with the sudden intervention of a butler's wrinkled face that was vaguely familiar to me at this state.

_there'snolove_—_Shiro_—_there'snolovethere'snolove_—Shiro is—

"Please escort Miura-kun out. Shiro, return to your lessons."

"Wait—" I gasped, trying to _breathe_. _there'snolove_—

"Okāsan—" _Shiro_—

"Please follow me, Miss." _there's_—

"_Stop it!" _I yelled, mind spinning and stepping away from bowing men and stumbling and gulping and—_There'snolove_—_there'snolove_—_ohShiro_—_ShiroShiroShiro_—

"Haru—ung!" The boy grunted as my forehead smacked against his chin, his arms rising to catch me around the shoulders and upper back. The fleeting pain cleared my head for a fraction of a second. Just a fraction.

But it was enough.

_There's no love here… Shiro… is… he's—!_

"Uuh~" My shoulders trembled as tears appeared in my eyes, and I began to sniff at the clogging in my ears. _Shiro… _"Shiro~!" I threw my arms around his neck and _pulled_ him to me. Clawed at his hoodie and _held _and _cried _and _wailed_—

"Shiro, I love you. I love you, Shiro. You know that right? I love you, I love you, I love you—"

Ran Shiro… has never experienced love.

_Why...?_

Was it this house?

Nevermind because—because—**no one** should go through that. **No one.**

"I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you—"

It was lonely. So lonely. Being by yourself. And even though Shiro had me, he only had me two months of the year. The other ten...the other ten…

It must be so, _so_ **lonely.**

And I would know.

I _know._

Even though I had Miura Emi's and Miura Kazuo's love. Even though I had Durante Incubo and Akane Jigokuno. And _maybe, _just _maybe, _Vongola Nonno…

Even though I was surrounded by so much love and light...there was still a dark hole in my chest that although _has_ shrunk… was still _prominent _and very nearly driving me _mad _from loneliness because this new family was _not. the. same. as Lacie and Celia and Ma—_

Was it death?

Was this hole… was it the lingering touch of death that stretched from my chest to—?

"Mmph!" It suddenly became hard to breathe; what with my face burrowed in unruly white hair and my ribs being crushed by a grip I didn't believe was possible for the boy to possess!

"Shi—" He tightened his hold at my gasp, digging his face into my hair. The short strands weren't long enough to hide behind, but they were sufficient for burying into. I did my best not to flinch away from his sudden heavy breathing against my neck, the sensation tickling me but—

_He's trembling._

And the action was so uncharacteristic of him…

So I hugged him back. _Tight_ and _close_ and—

_Bang._

I jumped, head snapping towards the sound.

My eyes met Ran Murasaki's, the gray color cold and icy against my irises. Her left arm shook from supporting her weight on the low table, and I immediately got the impression she was physically weak even as her eyes spoke with a fire worthy of hell.

Those powerful eyes of her's earned my respect.

But what _really_ caught my attention… was the atypical slit up the right leg of her kimono, cutting through spring flowers and expensive silk. Because underneath the detailed fabric—

"Get out of my house." She breathed, voice low and throaty and _dangerous_.

—was a silver prosthetic.

I couldn't tell if what I felt was a burst of admiration, or a surge of pity at the sight of it.

But I had enough respect and self-awareness to know when to back off at a woman protecting what is _her's_.

"Okay," I said at the same moment Shiro fisted the cloth of my baseball tee in an act of defiance. Looking away, I slowly peeled the boy's fingers from my shirt, mumbling low enough for just him to hear me. "We'll meet up later, okay?"

He didn't respond, tensing his fingers to make it difficult for me to untangle him from me. "I don't want Haru-chan to go…" His words knocked the breath out of me, my heart pounding at the need for air.

_He... _I inhaled shakily, hating this feeling of helplessness that I managed to swallow and feel in my gut like a solid ball of titanium. "I don't want to go either…" I admitted, stepping closer, "but we can't have your mother hating me more than she does already—"

He suddenly leaned forward, pressing our foreheads together. His eyes were half-lidded, the lavender color foggy in a strange imitation of Ran Murasaki's. "Haru-chan…loves me...yeah?"

His expression…

I, maybe not so unexpectedly, wanted to take him away.

Far, _far, _away.

Away from this _fucking. hell—_

"Yes…" I breathed, clenching my jaw to keep from crying again, swallowing _fiercely_ to contain my _annoyance._ "Yes, I do."

I cared for him so, _so, _much.

We were best friends after all.

"Then… Haru-chan and I will be watching the clouds soon?"

A strange sound escaped my throat, and it took a while for me to realize it was a twisted laugh. "Yeah… Yeah, we will. But later, okay?"

He frowned, looking uncertain, lips nearly pressing into a thin line. But then—"Okay." He mumbled, releasing his hold on me.

"Good." I gave him a smile, hoping it didn't come out as twisted as my laugh had. I gave his hand another squeeze before letting go, eyes briefly glancing towards the huffing woman. She watched me with eyes so intense, I had to look away, the butler wasting no time in walking me out of the Ran Estate.

I was strangely glad of the key's presence in my front pocket as I watched the gate's doors close behind me.

_I don't understand this division in social class..._

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks to:<strong>

**KiraLoveless **(thanks a lot!)**, 10th Squad 3rd Seat **(of course he does! :3)

**Guest **(yes!)**, chibi-no-baka **(thanks!)

**New and Old **(really? you think so? thanks!)**, Allykrau **(thanks! here we go! how's this?)

**Dustflame **(your reviews always make me grin...)**, xenocanaan **(here we go~!)

**1412 karasu **(mmm...well she's in a younger body...so i don't think the reaction would be the same...)**, selfishly **(wah~! really?! maybe you can help me with my italian in future chapters?! i'd really appreciate it!)

**CherryDrug **(haha! thanks a lot!)

* * *

><p><em>Should I do reviewer quotes? There are some really good ones I want to share, like <em>Dustflame's _and _MissEccentricWriter's _in Chapter 3, and another one in Chapter 4 by_ Dustflame _again_...

_Meh. It's up to you guys._

_In other news, you guys know _MissEccentricWriter _gifted me with that summary right? And the one for _Chariot of Helios _too. Well, someone's been complaining about the summaries not being up to par, so if any of you are interested in wanting to replace the one I have now, I'm open to absolutely anything and everything!_

_Mmm... there were more things I wanted to say, but I can't seem to remember them now..._

_Meh._

_Please review!_

_—Alice_


	6. Chapter 6, Omake

**...**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn. Any characters and/or familiar plots in this fan fiction belong to Akira Amano. Anything unfamiliar with the audience belongs to me.**

Chapter 6

How Relationships Come to an End + Omake

**Age: 9**

"—_Alice!"_

I woke with a start, ghostly remnants of my past life's physique contrasting with my current body, reassuring me that _my past life isn't a dream, it's real it isn't a dream—I used to live it isn't a lie it isn't a dream it was all—!_

—But!

But even that small moment that used to keep me sane was going away.

Because my current body, even though it has only been four years since I regained my memories, was adopting characteristics of my past life's figure.

It was when the dimples that Celia was so fond of appeared on my lower back, when my knuckles thickened whether from practicing sōjutsu or to better resemble my previous life's pianist hands, when my shoulders widened, when my hair deepened to the darkest brown and my irises followed suit, when my eyelashes curled at the corners of my eyes, when my features sharpened to a parallel of my previous life's, making me look more _beautiful_ than _cute_—

That I realized there was very little physical difference between Alice Menendez and Miura Haru in the first place.

Now… I was forced to accept that **yes, **I **am** a **new** Miura Haru.

And I _hated _it.

_Loathed_ it.

Because…

I don't think I can…

I don't think I can _change_ anything with just a different mental and physical state!

**What** is the point?! **What** is the purpose of this?!

And it made me want to **cry.**

Because—!

Can I really do this…?

It's… Because it's just _so_ heavy.

* * *

><p>The second time I woke up in that cell was to the feeling of something slamming into my back. It wasn't physical, but something more spiritual or emotional or just maybe—it was something that clung to my shoulders and dug claws into my collarbone and leaned heavily against me and pressed cracked lips to my ear and whispered in a broken voice <em>death...death...death death deathdeath deathdeathdeath<em>—

I needed to _get away!_

I pulled at the bonds on my wrists and kicked at the ones on my ankles, the sting of raw flesh fading to the rising hysteria disturbing the cluttered thoughts of _get away get away getaway getawaygetaway I'm going to _die!

The door was kicked open with a bang and I somehow managed not to scream at the sudden intrusion, fear and survival instincts sharpening all of my senses and making me painfully aware of only one exit and the taller, stronger figure blocking it.

I lifted my head, blinking the salty liquid away and letting my face fall to a neutral expression. The light from the hallway blinded me, and I barely processed a tall figure before I—

—lost my breath.

_Is this..._ I felt goosebumps appear across my flesh, the hair standing on end, _what they call a murderous aura...?_

It was so..._suffocating._ My stomach rolled at the unpleasant feelings his mere presence was giving me, and I suddenly understood why many threw up at the cacophony of instincts clashing behind my eyes.

He took one confident step forward, and I slammed against the concrete wall I was already pressed up against, skull throbbing, heart pounding and lungs heaving at the—_get away getaway getawaygetaway _get away!

This _aura_ is going to _kill me!_

Another step. This time, I tried scrambling towards the corner, anything to _get away_ from him! My shackles pulled at my wrists and ankles, causing me to trip and catch myself on my wrists and knees and _temple_—

—_Crack._

My vision shook, the world tilting on its axis; the small moment of weakness opened my mind to the _pure_ killing intent this man was giving off, making my insides swell and skin expand and turn me _inside out _from the mouth—

I gagged, spittle collecting on the corners of my lips, muscles clenching and bones grinding to keep the bile _down._

I was vaguely aware of the man emitting a grunt before my bonds were tugged at. I halfheartedly pulled away, jaw clenching in concentration and lungs burning with held up air. I swallowed fiercely, pushing down the—

The chain's resistance loosened and a gloved hand tugged at my wrist so sharply my breath left me in a rush. My mouth opened in a snarl of warning just as I was swept off my feet, dazed by the rush of standing and pivot of turning and first step of walking away before I realized—

I can _breathe._

I gasped in the unpressurized air, bruised fingers clutching the collar of the man's jacket because I was stupid in thinking he'd hurt since he was—

_Inhale._

—_rescuing_ me.

_Exhale_.

I leaned further into the man's shoulder, the smell of sea minerals and clear waterfalls calming me enough to remember the heavy _ache _in my body. I breathed out in a rush, inhaling to hold in the groans of pain: my wrists and ankles were raw, my fingers and elbows and knees bruised, and then there were the injuries from the kidnapping…

And then, I belatedly thought—

_Who..._is _this…?_

Before I could react properly, the man's arm tightened around me.

I was suddenly surrounded by the black of his leather jacket, eyesight blocked right before a yell of rage appeared at my back. I shivered at how _uncomfortable _the exposure was and resisted the urge to push against the man's chest and _turn _to face this obstacle because he _wasn't_ getting me from behind but—a quick _squelch_ stopped me, successfully keeping me in place as a blotch of warm liquid splashed against my toes.

It was so _warm… _A terrible thought of its identity made me go tense with fear. There was no possibility that it _wasn't—_

"Tch." A harsh jolt signified the man's kicking of the body, _no no no! don't disrespect the body! don't do that! don't do that! don't do that!,_ and a shift of his hold on me had me properly sitting on his elbow again, the corpse now out my field of vision.

But I was exposed to something else: the presence of a sword in his hand, more accurately his left wrist, made a shiver go down my spine.

Goosebumps soon appeared on my flesh because I was _right:_ he was _dangerous. _

He had the full capabilities to _kill me_—No.

I wasn't wrong in assuming he was rescuing me, that much was obvious, but he was still _dangerous _enough for me to do _nothing _because I didn't _know _if he _could _or _won't _do something.

So I didn't move. Didn't speak. I merely breathed against his neck and clutched at the leather of his collar, adrenaline keeping me vigilant and so so aware of the smooth and powerful muscles rippling underneath this man's clothes.

I once again had the thought of, _Who _is _this? _

Because _why _would this man I have never seen before even have the _thought _of rescuing a Japanese nine year old girl from the mafia he might have _some_ acquaintanceship with?

There was a higher possibility of him knowing _them_ than _me!_

I didn't _know_, or _understood_, and the fact that my _fear _and self-preservation kept me from doing _anything_ only made me frustrated and nervous and—

Another shift made me tense, but I quickly relaxed upon identifying these movements to those of climbing stairs. Curiously enough, instead of walking onto another floor, we found ourselves in a field of wilderness, the sounds unexpectedly shocking and the entrance to my jail cell leading underground.

Underground… was that why it had been so cold and damp? Being out here, it was suddenly _alien_ to feel _anything _other than the whispering of ghosts and thick, moist air travelling through my lungs.

The smooth strides of walking were broken by an abrupt dip that made my stomach fall to my toes in alarm. The man lifted his sword and—_sharpsharp going to cut me! _dodge now!—pressed his forearm against my hair to tuck in my head against his neck. I don't know how he fit through the entrance, but he did, all in one smooth motion that surprised me enough to cause pause.

A car. We were in a car.

And I was reminded of the taxi my grandparents had put me in to send me to Timoteo to spend the weekend with him and another car crashing into my door and the jolt and the banging and the shaking and the gasps and the hands _pulling _and _tugging _and the still body of the driver and the sharp pain at the back of my neck—

_Breathe. _The interior was made of warm leather, and it wasn't until I was engulfed in such heat that I realized how _cold _I was. A violent shiver racked my spine, goosebumps crawling along my flesh and making me exhale at the sudden change in atmosphere. "Hah-ah…"

The switch was almost painful.

I jumped, the ghostly tendrils of fingers on my shoulders fading to the heaviness of a blanket. I relaxed my instinctive clutching of my savior's leather jacket upon recognizing the movement, but I didn't let go of the slick fabric as I turned my head towards the old man sitting no more than a foot away from me.

"Nonno—" The word made no sound, escaping my mouth as a sort of breathy groan that strained my vocal cords. I noticed how his eyes were sad and regretful, a sort of tired resolution tightening the muscles around his lips as he adjusted the cloth around my sides.

It was all stiff and professional.

It was then, engulfed in warmth and feeling the hard muscles of security under my hands that the relief of being safe knocked me out so swiftly—

* * *

><p>I don't know what woke me up exactly; if it was the <em>too<em> comfortable feeling of the bed, the ache of disinfected and wrapped wounds healing, the warm sun filtering through the curtains all prettily dappling the room, or the faint, distinctive smell of frothed milk.

The elements were so foreign, yet strangely familiar.

I breathed in deeply, signaling my consciousness as I began to writhe underneath the covers. I exhaled in a sigh, stretching under the fluffy blanket and testing just how much everything _hurt._

_"Buongiorno._ Did you sleep well?" I opened my eyes fully, musing how unsurprised I was to hear the voice as I stared at the canopy of the four poster bed for a full breath. I rolled onto my side to face Timoteo, blinking at the natural image of his sitting in an armchair reading the newspaper. Most likely, daily.

He smiled upon meeting my eyes, the edges strained and the creases around his eyes relieved and prominent.

_He's glad I'm okay,_ but something was bothering him, and it made my stomach turn slowly in anxiousness because—

"Mm." I grunted in assent to his earlier question, hoping I acted casual in fisting the covers and pulling them over my shoulder more comfortably. He chuckled softly, the stiffness around his mouth fading to lines of sadness.

I didn't like it.

"Would you like some breakfast?" He asked, directing my attention to a tray on the nightstand, identifying the smell of frothed milk earlier. "Would you like hot chocolate? Coffee? Or a _cappuccino?"_

"Coffee." I answered, sitting up and leaning against the headboard, feet twisted in the covers for warmth. I yawned as I got comfortable, scratching at the back of my neck and flinching when I accidently picked at a scab.

"Here you are." Timoteo interrupted, making my stroking of the wound stop.

_"Grazie."_ I said, taking the cup and blowing softly against the rim. The mafia boss shifted the pastry towards me, and I grinned my thanks.

We ate in silence, or at least I did, the quiet was comforting and relaxing enough for me to wake up gradually without rush. The rustle of the newspaper was like a steady metronome, and I found myself to be satisfied.

Aching, but satisfied.

"Haru-chan…"

I blinked away the stupor, turning my gaze on the old man with a small smile, "Hmm?"

The look Timoteo was sporting made the smile smile slip away and had me clutch the handle of the teacup more firmly.

"Haru-chan." A pause, as if he were hesitating, "I'm terribly sorry."

I blinked, confused; heartbeat speeding up in apprehension. "Sorry? For what?"

"It's because of our relationship, that you were—I don't think we—" He stopped, bowing his head and trying to hide a frown of such pain and regret on his face that I immediately felt a strong sense of empathy.

A little indignation quickly followed it.

Along with a stupid thought that made my heart flutter in fear.

"Nonno...do you not want see me anymore?" _He wants to break our relationship?_

Maybe I was jumping to conclusions, but it was the first thing that popped into my head, and I immediately rebelled against the idea because I didn't want it to happen! I had grown attached to this man who was weak to children, and good with them might I add, which was why it was _so easy_ to forget he was a _mafia boss._ It was hard to remind myself that the man before me, who looked _devastated_ at the thought of nearly losing me to a rivaling, or disputing, or something I assume, mafia family, was also a man who had _killed,_ and _tortured,_ and _slaughtered_ people who had opposed him.

Did I care so much for him that I didn't want to _not_ see him?

But I could break away. I had the ability to forget about his affections and mine to his and move on and live but I didn't _want_ to.

_Say the word. Say the word, and I'll go or stay._

Because it really all depended on him.

"I don't want you to get hurt, Haru-chan." He finally said, and I took quick note of how there was nothing about breaking ties or continuing friendships so—

_What to say? What to say! Whattosay?!_

What to say to stay with him?!

"Nonno...you're the boss of the strongest mafia family… Right?" I said the words slowly, as if the idea had never even been present in my mind. His eyes immediately began to search my face, and I made the small moment when the name of the Vongola was mentioned during my imprisonment prominent in my mind. _Catch that truth. Catch it. Take hold of that one and believe me!_ I continued before he could speak, not wanting to lose my nerve, "Then doesn't that mean you have the ability to make our relationship such a secret that no one else could find out about it…?"

He sighed heavily, head bowing with the weight, as if he had already thought of the possibility, and the sound made something inside of me tense in apprehension.

"Haru-chan…" He looked up, eyes meeting mine and _no no no—_ "that's exactly what I've been doing…"

Something inside of me _popped._

"Oh…" I mumbled, the sound leaving my lips like an escaped breath. I tried to compose my facial expression before my emotions affected it but I don't it was working so I looked away before he could see— "Okay—" my voice broke, and I immediately inhaled to hide the fact that I was swallowing thickly.

"Okay." I forced myself to repeat, pulling my knees to my chest and making sure the word was a little more sure than the first time.

I kept my gaze on my knees so he wouldn't see how much the _he said no more, no more nomore nomore! nomorenomorenomore!,_ ranting caused thoughts of _you're a burden! you're a burden to him! a burdenburdenburden!_

_You. Are._** Useless.**

If anything, my pride didn't want him see how much his words and actions and _being,_ **affected** me as it did.

I clenched my hands, hugged my legs, breathed deeply, did _anything_ **not** to run away—

Timoteo tucked loose strands of my hair behind my ear.

—and the fond touch made tears blur my vision.

I clenched my eyes shut, unable to take the _face_ Timoteo was making out of the corner of my vision; my shaky breaths were the only audible sound in the quiet _quiet_ room but I didn't run away. I _endured_ and didn't accept his consoling touch because_ this caring needed to stop_** now** or I _wouldn't_ be able to let go fast enough.

* * *

><p>It was eleven years later that I found out the Imbrogliare Famiglia was wiped out that day.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>Omake: What Went On<strong>

"What do you think?" Timoteo asked, watching the steady rise and fall of Miura Haru's chest over the rim of his favorite coffee mug.

Superbi Squalo didn't react to the old man's question, keeping his gaze on the nothing of the hallway as he tightened his crossed arms and leaned heavier against the door. "Her instincts," He began, voice surprisingly low to indicate his seriousness, "are good. She understood how dangerous I was when I wasn't even showing any killing intent."

"Hm…" The old man hummed, eyes tracing the sharpening facial features of said girl. "She had the same reaction to me, when we met. Those instincts of her's," He mused out loud, "I wonder if they explain why her eyes are so haunted…" His fingertips trailed along the girl's hairline, almost sympathetically, if not sad. "What did you see Superbi? When you saw her eyes?"

Because she was only a simple Japanese girl, from a loving family and caring neighbourhood, there's no possible _reason_ for such shadows to—

Superbi Squalo frowned, tilting his head up to stare at the ceiling, voice drifting through the open crack of the double doors. He tried to remember what he had seen when he had kicked the door open, and came up with the image of a yowling cat, arching its back to seem twice its size and glaring to make itself look intimidating. "She's got good instincts." He repeated, not bothering to add that he could tell the girl was stubborn and prideful at a glance. "Good enough to survive in the mafia."

Timoteo sighed, shoulders slumping in weariness. "That's exactly what I don't want, Superbi."

Squalo snorted, unamused. "I rescued the girl like you wanted old man. Are you happy?"

"Yes." Vongola Nonno answered, speaking truthfully and with the realization of old age. "Thank you so much, Superbi."

The Varia second in command snorted again, brushing off the old man's thanks.

If you were to ask, he would easily deny any lingering to eavesdrop on the conversation between the almost grandfather and almost granddaughter.

Why _would_ he anyway?

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks to:<strong>

**Dustflame **(ack! why are you guessing everything correctly?! shh! shhhh! pair them? really? meh, still up for debate)**, Allykrau **(thanks! now that you mention it, that's very probable)**, DarkinocensDLT **(thank you!)**, New and Old** (haha, you're skepticism makes me laugh. thanks for the review!)**, 10th Squad 3rd Seat **(haha, really? thanks!)**, xxkuchinashi **(i understand! thanks a lot! i really appreciate it!)**, SophShad **(thank you! sorry for not update sooner!)**, x10TIMEx **(thank you, here it is!)**, Jessy **(welcome back! now that you mention it...huh...never thought of that. but i'd still keep it the same. i actually like it that way. it sounds really dramatic as it is.)**, Guest **(thanks!)**, meyinet **(here we go! thanks a lot!)**, thelonelylovechild **(here we go)

* * *

><p><em>Fuck.<em>

_Sorry guys, I'm ALIVE! SORRYYYYY~! __Hopefully, since it's winter break, I'll update more often, but no promises! I have a lot of shit that needs to be done!_

_So, what do you guys think of the new title? Better? I personally think it is. I also need a new summary too. Any ideas?_

_Please review! I'll update as soon as I can!_

_—Alice_


	7. Chapter 7, Omake

**...**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn. Any characters and/or familiar plots in this fan fiction belong to Akira Amano. Anything unfamiliar with the audience belongs to me.**

Chapter 7

When a Purpose is Given (Things get Complicated) + Omake

**Age: 10**

I paused on my way home from sōjutsu* practice to watch the crowds at the _Piazza San Marco_.

The area was covered with a light layer of snow—or _had been_ this morning. The open space had been traversed by so many tourists only gray frost clung in between the cracks now, the more clumped snow pushed against steps and away from the actively moving people.

I sighed at the massacre of the beautiful scenery, taking my time walking towards the clock tower. Upon arriving to the towering piece of clockwork, I leaned against the black railing, placing my duffel bag on the thin metal to relieve me of the weight. I was still warm from the daily exercise, so I exhaled to entertain myself, actively watching my visible breath disappear into nothing.

The appearance of white clothing to my right alerted me to its owner's suddenly _familiar existence. _It was so strongly intimate, it allowed me to question, "Are you the one who's been following me all winter?" but it wasn't comfortable enough for me to look them in the eye.

I had enough experience with the mafia to be cautious of every person now.

"Yes." _Ah… _The voice belonged to a woman I quickly guessed, with a high, lovely voice perfect for singing. Just sitting two feet away from her allowed me to feel a presence that didn't _command_ respect, but strangely stirred it from first learned morals with gentle coaxes.

What I _didn't_ understand, was why such a woman would follow a ten year old girl for such a lengthy amount of time.

"Why?"

She shifted; and the action was so sudden and close I pulled out the tantō* that was my spear's head from my duffel bag, unsheathing it swiftly and quickly enough for me to not bother _thinking _of how _too long_ it was my hands and pointing it at the woman to create a decent space of distance between us to disguise this fact from her and for my safety and comfort before I noticed—

She's carrying a baby.

And the information was so _strange _and _unusual _with my situation that I felt my glare of warning fading away to meet her eyes properly in curiosity.

And they were—Blue. Oh so very blue: light enough to copy the shade of the sky, and deep enough to encompass it completely.

"Who…" I breathed, tightening my grip on the weapon's handle and fearing the faint feeling of familiarity I got from looking at her face. "...are you?"

She smiled; and the action was so pure hearted and affectionate, I felt an almost physical blow against my chest. My face heated up at the warmth and caring sentiments the motion directed at me, my instincts smoothing the tension in my shoulders and hips.

"My name is Aria, Haru-chan."

I don't know if it was the mentioning of her name, or the fact that she knew mine that made my stomach drop to my toes.

This was—!

_What the hell is Aria of the Giglio Nero doing here?!_

Because now I knew it was Aria. Now I recognized her and the baby in her arms and why her smile affected me the way it did because it was the smile of a sky, all encompassing and—

"What do you want?" I choked out, clenching my jaw and trying so _so hard, not _to run away, because _she isn't supposed to interact with me, kamisama, so why—!_

She smiled again, but this time, it was a quirk of the lips: amused and sorry. She shifted, facing the ignorant crowd of tourists whose noise and density allowed all of this dangerous talk to be hidden safely.

"How much do you know of me?" She asked, and I couldn't quite pinpoint whether it was the casual way she said this or the sad _sad _pull in her lips as she cocked her head oh so gently and the _knowing _look in her eyes that made my heart stop and blood run cold because—

She knows.

_Kamisama, she _**knows.**

And this fact had memories, repressed by time, flooding my senses and flashing behind my eyes and _tearing _at the scab over my soul so that I was left _breathless _and _raw _with the awakened feelings of loneliness and _despair _and _sorrow _and _hopelessness_ and—

I am **alone.**

I am so _so _**alone.**

Because the love I receive from Miura Emi and Miura Kazuo and Ran Shiro and Durante Incubo and Timoteo of the Vongola _was. Not. _**Enough. **to fill this _gaping _hole in my chest that _threatened _to _swallow me whole_—

"How much do you know of me?" She repeated, her voice parting the sinister _madness_ that threatened to _consume_ my mind. Her eyes were not pitying, just wistful, and it was just the right expression to bring me back to my bearings.

I inhaled, my breath hitching in accordance with my aggressive feelings. I was acutely aware of how the tears ran down my face and how my nose and mouth were flooding with excess fluids and just how _ugly _this might look to her.

I quickly wiped my face with sleeves, taking as much time as possible to rearrange the words she wanted to hear in my head. She was unsurprisingly patient, which I hated at the moment, because it didn't help calm my beating heart or laborious breaths.

"Nothing," I answered honestly, voice thick with lingering emotion, "Other than your status of being a mother and your career as the boss of the Giglio Nero."

She didn't say anything for a moment, merely continued to smile at the silent bundle in her arms, a soft expression on her face; the small rocking motion of her arms the only sign of the baby being alive. I watched as she smiled happily, the love and tenderness she felt for her child almost physically touchable to anyone looking or so much as being near her.

Aria of the Giglio Nero sighed softly, raising her head to look north-west towards the horizon, straight over the shops full of trinkets and souvenirs.

"My mother," she began, voice low and heavy with nostalgia, " raised me in the mafia."

I didn't reply, believing that small sentence to be all and the end of it. But then she continued, "Thinking back on it… I now know she did it to keep me close. To have me there, in her line of sight, at arm's length, close enough to know I was _alive _and _safe."_

I… was suddenly confused. Confused at what she was _doing._ Was she making a point? Telling a story? I didn't understand the _purpose _of this unforeseen monologue_._

"That feeling…" She paused to look at her baby, as if to make sure she was _there _and _whole _and _secure. _"I now understand it because I have a daughter of my own… But—"

Aria raised her head to look at me, serious and unhappy. "She didn't know that being raised in the mafia…"

"Un…" I interrupted, because she didn't even _need_ to finish her sentence. The few times I had even _interacted_ with the _real, dangerous _parts of mafia lifestyle and politics were enough to make me skittish in anxiety at the mere _thought._

To be raised in such an environment…

"Why are you telling me this?" Because I had yet to understand _why _she was even being _civil _to me.

She was _mafia._

"I don't want my little girl growing up the same way." She said, and I understood her logic, but not why she was telling _me _this. "Which is why… I want to place her in your care."

At first I thought I heard her wrong, because there was _no possible way _**she**—

"Haru-chan…" Aria whispered, leaning towards me and _breathing _in my _space _and _clutching _my hand before I could back away— "You have a _purpose _here—"

It was then that something audibly _snapped._

"And you think it's to raise your _child!" _I barked, _offended _and _angry _and _exhausted _of all these _thoughts _and _emotions_— "You think I _died, _leaving the family that was the _center _of my _world,_ to be reborn in this _hell hole _where danger is _so close _to me that I have to _train _to _survive _and _live!" _I snatched my hand back from her grip, gasping for air and vainly trying to snatch some form of _sense _among all this _bullshit_— "Do you think I _wanted _this? I've spent so many _hours, days, _**months,** trying to come up with a _reason, why _I even regained my memories! _Why _was I torn away from my _mother _and _sisters _to live _again, apart _from them! What's the whole _point_ if they aren't here with me!"

"Haru-chan—" The baby was wriggling.

"_Why _**me! **I've _never _understood _why _it was _me! What _did I _do, _to deserve _this! _Is this hell! Is this punishment for a sin I committed! Because if it _is,_ I've learned my lesson. So _please," _I wasn't even sure who I was talking to anymore, "give me back my _family!"_

I was bawling, I belatedly realized. Hiccuping and wailing at _anything _and _everything. _I don't know _how _Aria's voice penetrated my mental breakdown, but the smooth tones and sharp accented vowels somehow processed in my mind: "You have a purpose here, Haru-chan. And it is _because _it is _you, _that I am wholeheartedly placing my daughter in your care. So _please..."_

"I'm ten years old," I managed to say around the tears and swollen insides. My knees were shaking violently and I was physically _exhausted._ "I am ten years old and _associated _with the mafia. What is the _point _of having your child be raised by another person if they'll only end up in the place you're avoiding most?"

"You're training just for that, aren't you?" She smiled sadly, an almost defeated pull along her eyes and the corner of her mouth. "I'm hoping… that you, just _you, _absolutely everything that makes up the Miura Haru before me… will be exactly what this child needs—"

"You don't even _know_ me." I said lowly.

Her smile grew slightly at the corners, the child in her arms silent and still again. "I do," She contradicted, looking _so _sure of herself that I felt my own confidence waver for a moment. "I believe...that _you _will be exactly what my little girl needs." She repeated, "And..._she, _will be just what _you_ need."

I couldn't even muster the strength to be angry. I was so _tired._ "Just..._how—"_

"Here." My arms immediately lifted to support the white bundle she pressed against my chest. I blubbered nonsense as she adjusted my hands along the thick blanket, curiosity pulling my eyes towards the baby's face.

She was sleeping, her face full of baby fat and hair I knew to be dark green hidden under a white knitted hat. Her small hand had escaped the cocoon of blankets that kept her warm, and Aria wasted no time in pulling the blanket up enough to cover the gloved fingers.

"Yuni." She called, voice low and sweet and gently coaxing. Nothing happened for a moment, then the child slowly lifted her eyelids halfway just as I believed she would sleep on. Her eyes were large blue orbs glassy with sleep, and her button nose scrunched up in a yawn, mouth pink and raw with unblemished skin. She began to wriggle in my arms to get comfortable, my heart fluttering in fear of dropping her or maybe I'm not caring her right or maybe she's going to cry, please don't cry please don't cry I don't think I can take it I don't think I can do this—

She closed her eyes completely, giving a sort of sigh as she went back to sleep. Comfortable and at peace.

"Do you want me to take her from you?" Aria whispered.

And I don't know whether it was having a baby so close to my heart, or the warmth she was giving off, or the heavy sensation of how _fragile _and _innocent _and _pure _this small creature was giving me, or maybe the too powerful flame in my chest that only afterwards I could connect to what I felt for Celia and Lacie that brought me _life _and _purpose _that—

"No." I breathed, the word strangely, yet not, strong and firm and— "Not yet."

I glanced at Aria, the sudden thought of giving her offense making my head snap up. But she smiled, a relieved look on her face introducing worry lines along the corners of her eyes and cheeks.

"Thank you, Haru-chan…" She sounded tired; alleviated but tired, "Don't worry, about anything. I'll be here." She placed her hands on my elbows, the grip sure and steady. "I'll be here."

* * *

><p><strong>Omake: Why Her Eyes are Haunted<strong>

"Ahrg! I'll kick both of your asses if you don't shut up! Ah? Fucking idiots." I grinned at the chastised girls, looking away before my mother caught my look as she continued to grumble about their arguing.

Celia and Lacie continued to put the ornaments on the Christmas tree with grumbles and pouting faces, my mother giving much more relaxed orders in Spanish as the tension of the spat disappeared. Her accented English lightened the mood considerably and, as always, made us all laugh or grin or both.

I paused in picking up the fallen ornament hooks, watching the scene with an amused smile. A thought I never thought of before popped in my head, maybe from all the fanfiction I read earlier or something else entirely.

_What would happen if they were gone...?_

Immediately, my stomach hallowed, the darkness clawing its way to my throat and base of my skull and leaving me _cold _and _empty _and so _so desperate _I could only really think—

**Never. **

And the repeated thoughts of _nevernevernever _allowed a hot, powerfully protective strength to re-energize me and chase away the mad emptiness the mere _thought _of losing them gave me.

_I'll never lose them, _was my resolution, _I'll die protecting them before any of them are lost._

* * *

><p><strong>Glossary<strong>

(as requested by Deer-Shifter)

_sōjutsu_—art of the spear

_tantō_—literally translates as "short blade," is a traditionally made Japanese sword worn by the samurai class in feudal Japan.

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks to:<strong>

**KiraLoveless **(you're right, plus: your review made me laugh so hard)**, Allykrau **(sorry about that! thanks for staying!)**, **

**Singular Poisonous Ashes **(thanks a lot! i try!)**, New and Old **(sorry about that! i like to get the chapter going as soon as possible. i didn't think that the age per chapter thing would fail me T~T thanks! i'm trying to keep things realistic)**, **

**Dustflame **(sorry, i should've done the glossary thing earlier huh? i mentioned sōjutsu at the beginning of the chapter T~T)**, meyinet **(sorry, i gotta try harder to make things clearer huh? i'll do my best to squeeze in Shiro in the next chapter, please bear with me! thanks! i love you too~!)**, **

**Deer-Shifter **(thanks, i can't remember where i got the inspiration from though... i'm hoping to do the whole daily life chapter at age thirteen, right before canon starts, i think that would be best. i've done the calculations too, so yes, i knew what age he was, but you're right in how the shock affected her perceptions. ah, Shiro's one of my favorites too, but haru won't be physically weak anymore, haha, sorry about that. thank you!)**, **

**iluvfairytale **(haha, me too! thanks for reviewing!)**, 10th Squad 3rd Street **(thanks! i hope this added more to why she looks the way she does)**, **

**himereiatsu **(thanks! here you go!)

* * *

><p><em>This fanfiction has made me realize how important my current life is to me, and everyone who inhabits it. So a big thank you to <em>MissEccentricWriter, _not only for that summary I really need to update but_ _for being my fanfiction buddy and encouraging me to do this._

_In all honesty, if I were to die and be reborn with my memories, I would have a mental breakdown. My family means that much to me. And only a life, or lives, could replace the ones I've lost, if I'm guessing correctly. Plus, I've always wondered how Yuni and Aria were raised..._

_I wanted to post this chapter much earlier as a sorry for being away for so long. Hopefully, I'll be able to update again soon, because _damn _I love working on this, and I bet you guys love it too :)_

_Please review! You guys are amazing T~T_

_—Alice_


	8. Chapter 8

**...**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn. Any characters and/or familiar plots in this fan fiction belong to Akira Amano. Anything unfamiliar with the audience belongs to me.**

Chapter 8

In Which We Realize Just How Hard It Is

**Age: 11**

Winter

"WAH~! Haru-chan's been accepted into Midori Middle School? With a full scholarship? Can you believe this Kazu-chan? Our little girl's going to such a prestigious middle school!"

"Un. I'm very proud of her."

"Oh...but it seems it's only fully paid for if she lives on campus…"

"It _is_ a boarding school, dear."

"Yes, but it's so close by I don't think it's really necessary…"

"It's fine, isn't it? She'll be close by, and the school will take good care of her."

"I guess…"

I watched, sick and nauseous and slightly terrified as the wisps of mist flames danced before Miura Emi and Kazuo's eyes; trailing along the paper in their hands and whirling and twisting and _rearranging _memories and _altering _thoughts of—

"I'll pull some strings," Aria said from beside me, calmly watching what I couldn't look away from. "You'll be admitted for the upcoming school year, and I'll also have—"

"No." I found myself breathing, unconsciously clutching the sleeping Yuni against my chest. The baby cooed against the blue pacifier in her mouth and the sound somehow broke me out of the _terrified _stupor of having people you care about—_yes, _after so many years, _yes, _I've come to care for them—be subjected to _mist flames_ deceiving—

"It doesn't hurt them, you know…" Aria whispered, hand raising to trail her fingers through my hair. The motion reminded me of how long the strands had gotten, enough to brush my shoulders and I vaguely reminded myself to get a haircut as she continued with a mumbled, "but you already know that. So...what is it, Haru-chan?"

I thought about it, and the answer didn't surprise me in the least because— "I can get into Midori Middle School, myself." —I didn't _want _her to do _everything _and make it _easier _for me, because I _can_ (_can can _**can**) pull weight too even if it isn't _much _it's _something _so I can at the very least do _this_ because—

I am _not _useless.

A pause. Then, a quiet, "Okay."

Spring

I took a deep breath to regulate my racing heart, my hands surprisingly steady as I unfolded the maybe too thick letter. I looked towards the sky before I could process anything other than my name and mailing address, another breath solidifying my resolve enough for me to promptly read my fate before I lost my nerve.

_Miura Haru_

Congratulations! _On behalf of the faculty and administration, I proudly offer you admission to the Independent Study program within Namimori City's Midori Middle School for the upcoming school year. _

_With the condition of avid participation in school administration and/or extracurricular activities, we hope to_—

I didn't realize I was crying until the words blurred together in front of me.

There was a relieved sigh that escaped me, shaky and gurgly as the tears poured out of my eyes. A weight was lifted, not especially from my shoulders, but a weight that allowed me to stand taller and breathe so much more easier.

_Thank kamisama…_

_Thank _**kamisama.**

I didn't care for the praises the letter sang of me.

Because I hadn't lied to Aria.

I can...at the very least...do _this..._

Summer

"Haru-chan."

"Mmm?" I grunted, not bothering to open my eyes. The sun was really really warm, or at least what filtered through the tree leaves; enough for me to doze contently. It didn't help that the grass was snug too.

Even _if _his voice had cracked our equilibrium, I didn't mind, "Why are you only staying two weeks this time?"

Even when he asked questions like that.

I sighed heavily, before opening my eyes slowly against the bright light that was the sun, _because Aria can't stay away from the Giglio Nero for longer than that after the six months she disappeared when she was pregnant with Yuni..._

But I couldn't say that…

"Remember that boarding school I got accepted into?" I mumbled, lifting my head to bring my arm under it as a makeshift pillow. "They have a freshman orientation that lasts two weeks."

Not really, but I wasn't telling him that I was heading back to the house Aria de' Giglio Nero had purchased in the mountains for Yuni and I so that she could return to her responsibilities as a mafia boss in Italy…

"Ah…" He basically breathed, a sudden heaviness appearing along his eyebrows and eyes looking away. "Then...you won't be staying as long anymore…?"

My abdomen went hollow at the look on his face and tone of his voice. My drowsiness left and I was suddenly _very very aware _of how _lonely_ Shiro must feel for _months _without my love for him and how much it _seemed _as if I haven't seen him _at all _even though _I've been with him every summer _even _if_ other more _intensifying _things had occurred these past few years but I _still cared_ about him enough to actually—

I took his hand, surprised at how long and cool the fingers were and how wide and thick the palm was. It only reminded me that he was two years older than me, yet he was—

"Ne, Shiro…" I said, suddenly embarrassed and self-conscious about the _maybe maybe maybe_s and _what if_s— "do you...want to come to Italy with me in the winter…?"

_Weak_

That's what I was. But if the circumstances had been different, I would have had him come with me to that house in the mountains; but Yuni was there and I couldn't let _anyone _know of Yuni. If the circumstances were different, Shiro and I would be living together like the siblings we felt we were. If the circumstances were different—

But they weren't.

I wanted to get him away, I _really_ did, but it was _so hard _when _all of these responsibilities _were calling for my attention that all I could really do was...the least I could do. Which was take him away for a few weeks… just a few…

And it was all, only a reminder of what a sad, powerless, dependent person I had become… Because I had no strength or will to do anything I promised…

In the end I was just weak and usele—

"Yes." He answered, voice breathless and hopeful and fingers tightening around my knuckles almost painfully. "Yes," He repeated, head bowing so our foreheads touched and his white hair itched my forehead and he looked so _relieved _and _happy _through that grin and faint tears on his face that I—

—cried.

I...cried…

Because—

_What...am I doing…?_

I'm...not doing anything.

I'm not _doing _anything.

What...am I doing then…?

Autumn

"Mah...mah..."

_No… _

"Mah-mah."

_This…_

"Mah-mah!"

_Can't be happening…_

"Mah-mah…?"

"I'm sorry…" I breathed, _trembling _and _gasping _and tilting my head back to stop the river of tears and strong flow of mucus from _splattering _all over— "I'm sorry, _Mami," _the familiar term of affection only made me cry harder, "but I'm not your Mamma…" I whispered, leaning my forehead against the baby's in my lap.

Yuni looked at me with large blue eyes, uncomprehending and confused and she lifted a small hand to pat my cheek with maybe too much force than she intended. "Mammah."

"No…" I gasped, _hurt _and _aching _because I _couldn't, wasn't, _nor could I _ever _be no matter _how much _I _wanted—_ "I'm not your Mamma, _Mami."_

I wasn't Yuni's mother.

I _wasn't… _

Later on, I had Yuni in my lap and Aria over video chat and I told the gurgling girl, "Say 'Ciao' to your Mamma, Yuni…"

She clapped and cooed and gave the woman a toothless smile. "Ciao, Yuni," Aria replied, waving to keep the baby's attention on her.

"Mammah!" Yuni giggled.

And the look on Aria's face…

I wasn't Yuni's mother. I could never be Yuni's mother.

I couldn't take that away from Aria.

I was left to deal with tears and pain and hurt and loneliness—

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks to:<strong>

**meyinet **(ahahaha, i haven't realized all the _sky _connections...)**, MusicofMadness **(thank you)**, KiraLoveless **(hahahahahaha)**, 10th Squad 3rd Seat **(i'll be delving into this next chapter!)**, Land on the stars **(i hope this chapter, and my revision of chapter 6 has cleared up this matter)**, New and Old **(somewhat, yes)**, Allykrau **(that's one of the hardest things about writing self-inserts, to me that is)**, Giotto21 **(we'll see about that :))**, treavellergirl **(i was thinking something along those lines too, but i have yet to decide whether or not Aria would be a reincarnation; no, Haru can't see parallel worlds)**, Dustflame **(haha, you're reading my mind! hope this chapter cleared up any questions)**, Xoxosincerelyabby **(thank you)**, belladu57 **(thank you)**, Rinnu500 **(haha, the images in my head aren't going away now!)**, Jessy **(thanks so much, glad to see you back!)**, givemehugs54 **(thanks a lot, that pairing suggestion is one i'm actually leaning towards, haha)**, ConCrit **(ah, that's how i write though, if you have a problem, get out; that part of Timoteo is true which is why i corrected chapter 6 and that last part of her parents was taken care of, so back off)**, Deer-Shifter **(ahaha, reading my mind~)**, Devinely **(awesome! welcome aboard!)**, northpeach **(thanks a lot!)**, Heyho **(thanks a lot, here's an update!)**, Failing Wings **(thanks!)**, Alice aquabld **(thanks, trying my best!)**, Flaming Belladonna **(thank you so much!)**, FantasyNight **(that would be very difficult to write out i think, but the concept is interesting, so i'll think about it :))

* * *

><p><em>I'm not satisfied with this one hundred percent, but you guys have been waiting enough, so I decided to update.<em>

ConCrit's _flame made me realize how Haru is developing too many connections, so I made a big change to Chapter 6, you guys may want to read. In other news, I'll be delving into why Aria was so insistent with choosing Haru in the next chapter._

_Thanks for being so patient, guys, I'm trying to best to balance everything._

_Please review! I'll update as soon as I can!_

_—Alice_

P.S. Do you guys want to see something specific in the next chapter?


	9. Chapter 9, Omake

**...**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn. Any characters and/or familiar plots in this fan fiction belong to Akira Amano. Anything unfamiliar with the audience belongs to me.**

Chapter 9

Where Love Reigns + Omake

**Age: 12**

"Lately…" I jumped at the sudden contact of Shiro's hand on mine, the spoon clattering noiselessly onto the white tablecloth. "Haru-chan...has been wearing a sad expression on her face…" The fifteen year old boy ran his fingers along my palm and up my wrist before retreating and simply clutching my fingers. The movement has been slow enough for his words to properly process in my mind, and by then, I was running my thumb over his knuckles to keep me grounded.

I was suddenly very, very cold, and Shiro's warmth was very, very comforting...

"Sorry. I wasn't aware…" A sad expression...? I was surprised at the idea, and yet...not entirely.

"How's everything going over here?" I had been vaguely aware of the waitress approaching, but it was still a surprise to see her here—so suddenly—in front of us. Her eyes flickered to our joint hands on top of the table before quickly turning away to our faces.

A nervous tick.

I immediately felt self conscious and tried to pull away, but Shiro's grip held firm. I tried to catch his eye, feeling an uncomfortable heat crawl up my neck at the attention, but he was already smiling at her. It was charming smile that made him confident and handsome and reminded me of his high class raising all over again. "We're fine, thank you."

"Ah…" She turned to me, a blush on her cheeks, to find me smiling politely at her. She turned a little redder and mumbled a, "just let me know if you need anything," before walking away with a too quick stride.

I relaxed with a sigh—

"Are you embarrassed?"

—only to turn back to the frowning Shiro across from me. I was surprised at his voice and facial expression and words he just uttered.

"Embarrased?" I echoed, blinking, "Not really. You know I don't like the attention."

And he knew. We knew each other that well. But I didn't understand _why_ he suddenly looked away from me just then, redirecting his gaze to the snow piling along the outdoor patio's heater.

"Shiro?" I asked tentatively. His expression… it was scaring me. It was one I haven't seen before.

He turned back to me, blank face fading to a familiar grin. The change was a relief to me, because I was able to recognize _this_ Shiro, and yet... "I'm full. Wanna go, Haru-chan? You still wanna stop by the library right?"

"Yeah…" I answered after a shaky sigh, standing and grabbing my things. "We're splitting the bill, this time." I reminded forcefully, almost an after thought.

He grinned, "_Hai hai,"_ he said, leaning forward to loop my scarf around my neck.

"Shiro—" I frowned, already reading his mind.

He looked at me, "Maybe just this once…?" He mumbled, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

I scowled at him, playfully punching him in the gut. He gave a dramatic 'oof,' and his warmth breath reminded me of the tiramisu* dessert we just shared. "We're _splitting _the bill." I repeated, making him grin widely and repeat, "_Hai, hai," _over and over again.

* * *

><p>"<em>Drink."<em>

_I wanted to. I really did._

_For some strange reason, even though I hadn't felt the ache of hunger or thirst or even sleep since being here, just standing in front of this river had my throat parched and tongue dry._

_The others were already crowding around the firm bank, hands dipping into the water and scooping the clear liquid into their mouths._

_I felt an ache settle inside my throat I wanted to get rid of, so with slightly desperate elbowing I knelt in between a middle aged man and less than ten year old girl._

_My fingers slid along the surface easily, the liquid smooth and clear and smelling of petrichor and desserts and coffee and milk tea and mint and my mother's familiar scent and everything I loved all at once._

_I brought my cupped hand to my lips and—_

_A scream stopped me from drinking._

_It wasn't uncommon to hear screams when away from the Elysian Fields, but this scream...was it...the scream of a child...?_

_The sound made my brain itch. It made me so uncomfortable and protective and the cackling laughter of the Erinyes* wasn't helping because—_

That sounds like Lacie.

That sounds like Celia.

Is that… Ma…?

"_Get up."_

_I jumped, startled out of my wits and eyes moving away from the faint, faint shadows along the horizon. Cerberus's* growls and howls and barks were faint enough to be considered background noise now that I wasn't paying attention, but…_

_That scream…_

"_Let's get this over with." The nineteen year old boy who had been escorting our group of souls waved his hand in an arc. Immediately, I felt my core tighten and a sudden dizziness made the world spin. Black butterflies began to fly around the black winged male in lovely patterns, and… was I among the fray…?_

_Again, he waved his hand in an arc, and then there was the deep deep groan of wood and a bright light that made everything warm warm war—_

* * *

><p>"Do you...remember anything about how...you've come to be this way…?" Aria asked, the words coming out slowly and hesitantly.<p>

I assumed she spoke of my reincarnation, if you could even call it that.

In all honesty, I don't know _what_ this was. Miura Haru had been her own person until she was five and, in the simplest of terms, I had taken over her soul, body, and mind. Even then, _possession,_ wasn't the right word, since Miura Haru had _become _a part of me, or was it—that _I _had become a part of _her...?_

"No." I answered honestly, running my hand through Yuni's hair slowly. I watched the dark green strands filter through my fingers, and my little girl's deep sigh had me look up at Aria again. "Does it even matter?" I muttered, slightly annoyed at the ignorance I had of the topic, "I'm here now. If anything, when I die, I'll just be reborn again." It seems that souls can be recycled too, if my existence had anything to say about it.

"With your memories again?" Aria asked, slowly placing her teacup on the lonely saucer on top of the coffee table. "If it was that simple," she said, straightening, "then wouldn't everyone remember their past lives?"

_Thump thump. _She's right.

And, now that I thought about it, that was the scary part.

_Why did _I remember my past life? Was—_is there—_something wrong with me? Only me? _Was_ it only me? Or were there others? Others like me? Others who remembered? Was it possible? Then I wasn't alone? Really? I wasn't—the only—_strange_ or _weird_ or _odd _or _bizarre _or _unusual _or _outlandish_—wait.

What-ifs. These are what-ifs.

So...

That means...that right now...at this very moment...as far as I was concerned...I was the only one this way.

I...was _different_.

And...I didn't _know _if that was a _good _thing or _not…_

"Haru-chan…"

"What is it?" I mumbled through a breath, vision blurry. _Why… _

"I'm very happy...that I was able to meet you, you know." She said quietly, voice somehow loud in the suddenly _too small_ room. "Because of you… I am able to keep Yuni away from the mafia, if only for a little while." I didn't look at her. I didn't want to. I knew that I would cry if I did. "Because of you… Yuni is able to experience the love of a mother" _Flinch._ "that… I can't give her, right now…"

My head hurt from how fast I looked up.

Aria smiled at the look on my face, my rapid heartbeat increasing tenfold at the curve of her lips. _She didn't mean… _"Did you think I wouldn't notice?" She laughed, looking _sad. _So _sad._ "I know...that you are more of a mother than I could ever—"

"No!" I interrupted, _horrified_ and _sick_ and _nauseous_ at what she was _implying. _"I..._am not _Yuni's mother. I love Yuni. I _do._ I love her as if she were my own, but!" The tears in my eyes were so annoying at this point. I didn't _like _the way they made my face screw up and mucus leak out of my nose—"I'll never be her mother, Aria. I'm...just her _Madrina. _That's it. I'm...just her godmother. I'll _never_ be able to take that position away from you Aria… I...don't have the ability to replace that corner in her heart."

I leaned forward, _heated _and _passionate _and _intense__— _"_You, _Aria, are _Yuni's mother. Do. Not. Doubt. That."_

Tears, like small diamonds that reflected the light, silently ran down the mafia boss's cheeks. She smiled, looking beautiful and radiant and _happy._

"Thank you, Haru." She breathed, standing and walking around the coffee table, "thank you," she took a seat to my right, leaning forward and wrapping her arms around me, "thank you," she cried into my collarbone, and I cried against her hair.

What I said was true. I would never be able to be Yuni's _mother._

But that didn't mean I didn't _want _to.

Because I wanted Yuni all to myself. I wanted to be the one she called _Mama, _and the one she asked questions about and worry over and be curious about and look similar too and love no matter what because we were connected by blood but—

I wasn't.

I wasn't, yet Yuni still loved me, and I love her even more for that.

But it _wasn't the same._

And I am _such_ a _horrible person_ to even _feel_ this way.

I _hated _that I was so _human._

I _hated _it.

* * *

><p><strong>Omake: Just a Little Reasoning (Or Maybe None at All)<strong>

Aria de' Giglio Nero had been daydreaming in a coffee shop, trying to organize the mess of all the images in her head, when she first took notice.

A young boy, of eight or nine or maybe even ten years of age, had paused in his stroll with his mother to pick up an empty coffee cup near the sidewalk's edge. He threw it into the nearest trash can easily, and it wasn't any of this that had caught her attention really, it was just another common occurrence but—

What caught her attention was that the child's mother had to initiate the hand holding in the first place.

At first she thought that something must be wrong with the child emotionally, then she became worried that her child would be the same way and placed a hand over her baby bump protectively. Then she silently berated herself for thinking such a thing since it isn't her business, _anything _could be at play here—

The child caught her attention again.

He had paused in the middle of the sidewalk, his mother gently pulling at his arm and most likely calling his name—he released her hand and walked towards an old woman with a walker with more determination than should befall his age, and—placing one hand over her's and another along the inside of her elbow—helped her hobble across the street with surprising patience and gentleness.

It was then, when the child was finally facing her, that she realized it wasn't a _he _at all, but a _she._

And after this realization came the full view of her eyes, and _that_ was when images of still water and a rushing river and a screaming child and cold hands and a baby with dark green hair and _her _eyes and the child with dark dark orbs in front of her holding her child's hand because it was her child it was her baby the small little creature growing inside of her holding this strange strange girl's hand with _too_ dark windows into her soul and black butterflies following her everywhere that—

"Alice…" The girl with a beautiful past and basic present and grim future was— "It's Alice Menend—no," Aria de' Giglio Nero corrected herself, blinking the pictures behind her eyelids and managing to find a form of _sense _over the water in her lungs and pain in chest so strong it was spreading to her fingertips and toes— "It's Miura Haru, now.

"Miura Haru…."

* * *

><p><strong>Glossary<strong>

_tiramisu_—a popular coffee-flavored Italian dessert

_Erinyes_—also known as the _Furies, _were three subterranean female deities in charge of punishing souls in the underworld

_Cerberus_—multi-headed (usually three) dog in charge of guarding the entrance of the Greek underworld, so the dead cannot escape and the living cannot enter

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks to:<strong>

**10th Squad 3rd Seat **(it broke mine too D:)**, Deer-Shifter **(here's more Shiro!)**, Flaming Belladonna **(thanks a lot! here's some more Shiro!)**, Dustflame **(hahaha, maybe? i don't know. i honestly haven't thought of it. that'd be an interesting omake though, should i go for it?)**, xenocanaan **(here you go! thanks for waiting!)**, Allykrau **(hope you're okay! D: thanks for waiting!)**, Kieriu **(thanks! i've been waiting for someone to get that! haha!)**, InfinityRabbit** (thanks a lot! the pairing still isn't decided, i'll put up a poll when all the characters show up)**, cascoli **(yes, he is)**, meyinet **(thanks a lot! here's some more Shiro!)**, DulcetOwl **(thanks a lot! i appreciate your time. their relationship is vague for a reason: a pairing hasn't been decided yet, that's why XD but the relationship between Aria and Yuni and Haru was expanded on a bit here, did this chapter help? thanks a lot for being here!)

* * *

><p><em>A special of your choice to the reviewer who can guess which river Alice was about to drink from!<em>

_Same to the reviewer who can guess who that nineteen year old black winged male was!_

_GUYS WE'VE REACHED 100 REVIEWS, DO YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS?, GET READY FOR A SPECIAL NEXT CHAPTER THAT'S WHAT!_

_Shiro is a surprisingly popular character, I didn't expect that O.O, since he's Byakuran and all..._

_Sorry for the late update guys, I AM NOT GOING ON HIATUS._

_PLEASE REVIEW~! WE HAVE SO MANY MORE FOLLOWERS AND FAVORITES NOW!_

_COME ON! MAKE YOURSELVES KNOWN!_

_—Alice_


	10. Chapter 10, Specials

**...**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn. Any characters and/or familiar plots in this fan fiction belong to Akira Amano. Anything unfamiliar with the audience belongs to me.**

Chapter 10

In Which the Author Overexerts Herself with Specials

**Age: 13**

"Oh? Is little Mitsu-chan not with you today, Yuu-san?"

"No," I smiled politely at the elder lady, pausing appropriately before continuing, "Mitsu is on her way to her father's for the holidays I'm afraid, so we won't be seeing her around here for a little while."

"Oh, is that so?" She hummed, trying not to (but failing miserably) look curious.

"Unfortunately," I said, ending the conversation with, "I'll only be taking these, Fujiwara-san," and gesturing to the plentiful plastic bags of fresh fruit.

"A-Ah, of course," The fruit stand lady stuttered, looking put off at the lack of gossip. It was an annoying habit of her's I admit (prying into other people's business), but her fruit stand always had the freshest fruits, so there was no helping it (luckily the best vegetables belonged to an adorable Mister Kita a few stalls down on the opposite side). "Here you are, Yuu-san. Have a lovely day! I'll see you next week!"

Unfortunately. "Thank you very much." I replied with a sincere smile, feeling the hairs raise along the back of my neck the moment I took the bags from her grip.

Someone was watching me.

I discreetly looked towards my left from the corner of my eye, vaguely in the direction where I felt the intent stare of—

_thump thump thump thump thump_—

...Shiro.

_Ran_ Shiro.

Shiro, _my Shiro,_ was standing several feet away from me _staring _and _studying _and _frowning _at my _face _and was it just me or was the ring on my finger starting to get really _really_ heavy from the plainly _obvious _attention he was giving me _oh my god_ what if he could _see _through the illusion no _no _**no**—

_Kamisama kamisama kamisama, _what the hell _is _Shiro _doing here?_

He _shouldn't_ be here right now.

He _should _**not** be here _right now!_

I took a shaky breath and focused on making my movements seem as natural as possible. I adjusted my grip on the bags as thoughts of, _what do I do what do I do what do I do, _ran through my head because _Shiro _**can not **_see me like this right now!_

Not when I was playing the role of Shizuka Yuu; the single mother who took care of her daughter, who looked the spitting image of her, in a lonely house in the mountains that was suspiciously isolated—

I began walking _away _from him, calmly and purposefully, because I needed to _get away get away _quickly—but where _where the hell was I supposed to run away to?_

I felt him following me; more curious than cautious, and my knees subtly began to shake.

Habitually, I turned down a familiar street—and spotted my salvation.

**Thank **_kamisama._

I shifted the grocery bags to my left hand and nonchalantly reached for the realtor office's door to my right, fingers curling around the sliding door's pane.

"Obāsan*!" I called casually, closing the door behind me swiftly and pulling off the ring on my left index finger as soon as I could. I felt the illusion fading the moment the metal slipped off of my skin, and I continued with an, "It's Haru," while putting the ring in my front pocket. "I just got back from the farmer's market; I brought you some green tea from that organic stall that you like."

There was a loud thump that (not only matched the pounding in my chest) worried me for a second, but when an elderly woman bustled from the interior of the home, whole and if anything still alive, the feeling faded to relief.

As much relieved as I could feel knowing Shiro was out there looking for a ghost.

"Haru-chan, you didn't have to." The woman insisted, clicking her tongue in alternating frequencies as she made her way towards me. "I've told you time and time again that your simple company is more than enough to satisfy my weary soul."

I smiled, watching her make her way to her desk and take a seat with a heavy sigh. "Would you like me to put the tea in your cupboard, Obāsan?" I asked, watching her click appropriately and trail her fingers along the wood in habit. "I can make a cup for you while I'm at it."

"Oh, Haru-chan, you're such a sweetheart." She said, fiddling with a pen and some books relating to real estate.

"Not really," I admitted, almost awkwardly and shifting in place nervously (still) by the door.

Kawahira Obāsan was the woman who sold Aria the house in the mountains in the first place. I don't know what Aria told her, or maybe even used illusions to convince her, but she didn't question why a twelve year old girl was living away from her parents in such a secluded home in the first place.

Did she even know I was living away from my parents? Maybe she thought Aria was my mother or something. Either way, she didn't know of Yuni (or Mitsu, as she wore the illusion every single time she left the house). The less people knew of her existence, the better.

"Nonsense. Ah, by the way Haru-chan, if you're ever interested in running away, I know this beautiful property in Nagano I can introduce you to." She winked, seeming to add life to those blind, useless eyes of hers, and the action was so unlike her usual humble, kind self, my jaw dropped in surprise.

"Obāsan!" I spluttered, caught off guard at her sudden playfulness. "Where did that suddenly come from?"

"Oh, nowhere," she hummed, running her fingers over the raised lettering in her books, "I know a woman of your character is bound to have caught the eye of multiple men."

"Oh please," I muttered, finally gathering my bags and making my way into the inner living area, with a muttered, "Not in my past life, nor in this one."

"I wouldn't be so sure," She said, in a tone that sent a shiver down my spine.

Sometimes, she said things in an almost prophetic manner, and it made me think stupid stuff like, _maybe she traded her vision to see the future…?_

* * *

><p>Ito-sensei, although heartless and unfeeling, was really good at his job.<p>

Really _really _good.

So when the door to my room opened quietly, and a presence entered the slowly growing sensory bubble I was developing, I had already identified my visitor and ceased any mental planning I had of immobilizing him two steps through the doorway.

My bed dipped at the added weight, and I didn't fight the sudden warmth against my back. Instead, I turned and snuggled closer into Shiro's embrace, allowing him to wrap his arm around me and adjust my neck over his steadily thickening bicep.

I exhaled, warm and comfortable and a little worried for him. "Are you okay?" I mumbled against his jaw, opening my eyes slowly and seeing only the darkness at his neck.

"Yeah," He answered slowly, not sounding emotional at all, even though he should be.

"You should've called." I muttered after a moment of silence. It had scared me shitless when I suddenly saw him in town like that. It wasn't that I didn't want him around, it was the exact opposite actually, but that I needed to clear any trace of Yuni back home before he saw anything. Luckily, I stuffed everything into Yuni's room and let the name plaque Aria had provided to erase her existence. And the room in general. "The place is a mess, I didn't have time to clean."

_I really need to ask Aria where she finds all of these items that cast such efficient illusions_, I thought belatedly.

"I don't care." He said, and I knew he meant it, which made me annoyed at his carelessness yet relieved at our causal relationship. "I just wanted to get away from Otōsan. I'll go back a day before the funeral."

And then in a softer tone, almost like an afterthought, he said, "I wanted to see Haru-chan." A soft, gentle kiss to my hairline, "I missed you."

I sighed, suddenly filled with the warmth of his love yet still aware of the feelings the incident earlier today had given me. "I missed you, too," I admitted in honesty, tilting my head to nudge my forehead against his jaw affectionately, "But you should be there for your Otōsan, Shiro. He just lost his wife."

He huffed a laugh, pulling me closer to his chest and beginning to run his fingers through my short hair. "You know as well as I do that Otōsan never loved Okāsan. They had an arranged marriage remember?"

"Yeah." I mumbled, remembering the coldly distant way his parents had interacted with each other, all the while stroking his side in a gentle manner. "I remember that…"

* * *

><p><em>I was an avid practitioner of physical affection (if the reader hasn't yet noticed…).<em>

_In my previous life, where I kissed the cheek of extended family in greeting, or hugged and held hands with my immediate family in public, or was accustomed to seeing hands stranding to intimate places between couples, suddenly being thrust into a society where losing face is the greatest shame you could bring upon yourself and your family, was—hard._

_Really really hard._

_In this life, I had to be aware of how close I stood, or sat, or leaned towards another person. I had to be aware of casual touch to backs or shoulders or hair or hands when not involving my immediate family._

_This new definition of personal space, of distance, made me feel cold and detached and very very empty inside._

_It didn't help that I had a bad habit of casually touching anyone I was fond or comfortable with. _

_Which brings us to Shiro's casual acceptance (and avidly initiative) of our snuggle sessions despite his strict upbringing in Japanese ideals._

_(Keep in mind that Miura Emi was born and raised in Italy for a good portion of her life. She and Miura Kazuo only kiss each other in the morning, which is surprisingly subdued affection from an Italian woman, and surprisingly provoking from a Japanese man. Her affection towards her daughter is completely the opposite I assure you) _

_I don't remember when I started casually touching Shiro, but I remember when we started cuddling, then snuggling, then going to each other for warm, silent, tangles of comfort._

_I don't regret introducing Shiro to the world of avid physical affection. I only feel...worry, at the possibility that my actions might somehow make him do something he will regret. Something that might ruin Shiro's public image (ah, there's that Japanese ideal)._

_This worry is brief, because I know Shiro can take care of himself. He's smart, and knows what to do and when to do it. The same goes for what not to do and when not to do it._

_So really...the only thing I need to be anxious about is Yuni kissing someone she really likes suddenly._

_Not in a romantic manner, obviously._

* * *

><p>I was running around town after morning swimming practice when I saw it. Or felt it. Or whatever you want to call it.<p>

A blur of motion sped by on the other side of the street, roaring loud enough for the prepubescent voice to be heard over the music blaring in my ears. The sound was strangely animalistic in its vigor, and the strength of it shook my heart in its rib cage.

I stopped immediately, breathing in deeply and exhaling heavily, eyes following the fading dust clouds, heart pounding—I want to say it pounded harder at the sudden lack of motion, but then I'd be lying.

It pounded in nervousness and apprehension and a little bit of fear.

I continued my daily run, because I _knew _even though I couldn't _feel _the eyes of a man _studying _every single movement in this city. I tried not to think, _how long has he been watching this place?, have I made a mistake?, was I careful enough?, please please _please _let everything go alright, _and instead focused on seeming as natural as possible.

When I met Timoteo of the Vongola, I was too scared to do anything about having met a powerful figure in a world I didn't even believe to be _real _a few years before_. _But after my kidnapping, after having ended any friendship with such a figure, I grabbed a journal and wrote and _wrote, everything _I could possibly remember about the story line.

Keep in mind, that four years have passed since I had received my memories then, and another four have passed since I even wrote the thing. So of course, I wasn't bound to remember _every single detail _of the series_, especially _when I haven't touched the journal _at all _since hiding it among the various books in my bookcase_._

But after seeing what I believe to be the main character, even if it was a blur or a glimpse of him, I pulled out that journal after getting home from sōjutsu* practice and read a list of names I couldn't place faces to anymore, read terms I had only vague ideas of their meaning, and read a series of events I couldn't even _imagine _happening much less occurring _a year from now._

The revisit of _how useless I am _because _what was the point _of giving my memories back if _I was bound to forget them anyways_ made me angry and frustrated enough to rip several pages out of its binding.

But I stopped myself from ripping them in half.

I exhaled shakily, threw the _almost _useless notebook on my desk, and decided to sweat out my frustration with physical activity.

I didn't know when I was going to meet Sawada Tsunayoshi, other than it being soon, but one thing I knew for sure was: I wasn't going to go to him.

* * *

><p><strong>Glossary<strong>

Obāsan—respectful term for an older woman

Sōjutsu—art of the spear

* * *

><p><strong>Special: 10,086th Alternate Universe<strong>

(for reaching 100+ reviews)

note: _inspired by givemehugs54's review_

_Bzzt. Bzzt. Bzzt. Bzzt—_

"S'pe'bi…" I groaned, rolling over and pulling the covers closer around my neck.

_Bzzt. Bzzt. Bzzt—_

"S'pe'bi," I groaned again, louder this time, lips mumbling against the skin of his collarbone when he didn't move.

He grunted, tightening his grip around my waist and head, and effectively caging me against his bare chest. It became harder to breathe, and I blinked open an eye that wasn't pressed against skin only to be blinded by the winter sunlight.

"Supe'bi," I grumbled, nudging the male's jaw with my forehead. "My phone—"

_Wait._

My phone's ringing. So that means—

I immediately turned over, breaking out of Squalo's grasp to reach for the vibrating device on the night stand.

One grunt and quick swipe later, Superbi Squalo and I were tangled together among the bedsheets.

"Let it go to voicemail." My husband grumbled against my neck, snuggling closer to avoid the winter cold.

"But what if it's Basil—?" He pushed himself up on his elbows and kissed me quickly, shutting up my concerns and nipping my bottom lip for good measure.

"Shut up." He demanded with a scowl _and was he really scowling at me oh god he's _so _going _down!

I grinned at him in excitement, lips pulling into a growl as I wrapped my legs around his waist and flipped us over before he could kiss me shut again. Successfully pinning him, I reached for the phone just as it began vibrating a second time—

But there was a reason Superbi Squalo was the second-in-command of the Varia.

Even without his sword.

He grabbed my wrist, used his weight to disturb my center of gravity, and had us landing on the floor in a heap. I laughed at the situation, Squalo scowling under me from instinctively catching my fall.

I kissed him playfully and quickly, pushing off of him and sprinting towards the bathroom before he could stop me.

There was a growl behind me before a hand and forearm were around my waist and pulling me against a bare chest. I shrieked at being caught, laughing so hard I began to hiccup. Squalo spun me around, quickly and effortlessly lifting me so that I could wrap my legs around his waist.

I kissed him as a reward, but he continued the quick pecks between laughs and grins until I was breathless and tingly with positive feelings.

A hush fell between us, my fingers running through his long hair, my thumbs stroking his cheekbones. We looked into each other's eyes for a good while, and the emotions blooming in my chest were strong enough to have me think I would burst from happiness, were dangerous to have in the mafia.

He leaned his forehead against mine, not seeming to tire from holding me up and against him the entire time (with one arm no less).

I kissed Superbi Squalo slowly, breathing, "Love you," against his parted lips.

He inhaled, as if breathing in the words, and he exhaled, "I love you," against my mouth.

I grinned, face hurting from the stretched muscles, and kissed my husband again to expel the happiness and joy and contentment close to consuming me.

He carried me back to the bed we shared, his kisses growing urgent and hot and needy as my phone vibrated again and again.

It was moments like these…

—that made me wish we weren't in the mafia at all.

* * *

><p><strong>Special: How Fleeting (and a Pain in the Ass) Emotions Can Be<strong>

(for _ddmahan922 _guessing the River Lethe)

_prompt: _a special that takes place after the future arc and everything blows over, with the adorable 18 year old Byakuran who forces Haru to go shopping with him.

_note: _how about older than 18?

"Are you mad at me?"

I sighed at the question, already anticipating it's arrival. "No." I answered honestly (I was _annoyed)_, eyes scanning the racks and shelves of lightly colored clothes. I stopped my casual sweep when Shiro didn't respond. His silence disturbed me a little, it meant he was thinking deeply and quickly. But it wasn't that he was thinking deeply and quickly that made me nervous.

It was that he was _silent _that did. Because Shiro was one to speak his mind clearly and bluntly, and the fact that he was doing this internally instead of externally made me feel almost left out.

I began to turn towards him, but he pressed himself against my back, successfully making me pause. His hands ran from my shoulders down my arms to my hands, our fingers intertwining easily and effortlessly.

"I love you," he said, lifting my left hand to his lips and kissing the wedding band on my finger. He lifted our intertwined right hands to place them over my swollen belly, his fingers guiding my own over the small life underneath.

I turned my head to kiss his jaw, leaning my forehead against his neck at the warm _warm _feeling he was encasing me in. I breathed in the love I felt from him and me and the small little light inside of me the both of us had created.

I was blessed.

So, so, blessed.

"Better?" He murmured, releasing me slowly but not letting my left hand go.

"Mmm." I grunted with a nod, not realizing I needed the comfort he had just provided. I was scared and a little panicky at how _soon _the baby was coming and I was ignoring him even though he was trying his best to help…

"Now, let's continue this shopping spree," He encouraged with a smile, pulling me towards the hats and booties.

"Make sure everything's in neutral colors, Shiro." I reminded, stopping abruptly in front of a lovely pair of pale yellow knitted mittens. "Oh, Shiro, these are so cute…" I murmured.

"They are," he agreed, not hesitating to take them out of my hands and placing them in a basket he pulled out of nowhere, "But Haru, our baby's a girl." Shiro insisted, testing the material of a pink onesie between his fingers. "Our little Aki. Ran Aki." He grinned in amusement.

"Aki?" I echoed with a frown, wondering just _where the hell _he got that name. "Is that supposed to be a pun between our names?" I asked in an _I'm-not-amused _tone. Haru meaning Spring and Aki meaning Autumn?

Autumn Orchid...

It honestly didn't sound too bad, but— "What if it's a boy?" I challenged, moving towards the striped shirts and stuffed animals, eyeing a small lion and crossing the possibility of Ran Natsu (Summer Orchid) off of our list. I cared about Tsuna, but having our child named the same as his box weapon...? No. Not going to happen. "Yuki Ran doesn't sound too bad either." I commented offhandedly.

Shiro was suddenly breathing against my neck, lips slowly tracing my earlobe and sensually murmuring, "Winter Orchids aren't as beautiful as Spring Orchids. We could name the baby after his mother."

I exhaled shakily at the sudden change in mood, knees beginning to tremble—_Uh-oh this is bad—_He was turning me on and _this was not a good place to—_

"I'm assuming Natsu and any colors are out of the picture…?" I breathed, trying to focus on the innocent, beady eyes of the stuffed animals staring into my soul.

"Definitely." He said, pulling back—

—and taking my desire with him.

I exhaled slowly, closing my eyes to hide the raw disappointment the small moment had left behind and to calm the lust that flared inside of me briefly.

"Enough about names," I forced myself to say, almost in annoyance, "You brought me here against my will, Byakuran," a name I only used when annoyed with him, "even though we have enough clothes to last three life times, so let's finish this and get back to that foot rub and book waiting for me next to the fireplace at home you've promised me."

He grinned at me, almost laughing at my small rant, not at all affected by my calling him Byakuran as he used to be, "_Hai, hai~" _He drawled, humming in amusement as he picked up a fluffy lamb.

I sighed at his casual attitude, turning my attention to a set of soft, knitted booties a light green color. _So small… _I thought, relaxing at the sight and just _daydreaming_ of smiles as bright as the sun and laughter so _beautiful_ it would leave me breathless...

Shiro's fingers found their way to intertwine with my own, and I pretended not to notice their gradual movement all the while discretely tightening my hold on his hand. He grinned, and the action annoyed me.

"Shut up."

* * *

><p><strong>Special: Untitled<strong>

(for _Lahel _guessing the River Lethe)

_prompt: _none was given

* * *

><p><strong>Special: Between Honest to a Fault Old Men (or is it Wise?)<strong>

(for _Deer-Shifter _guessing the River Lethe)

_prompt: _Something from the perspective of Haru's actual Grandfather, Dante, would be nice. What he thinks of his granddaughter, and what explanation he received for the Ninth breaking off the friendship with her (if any).

_note: _wow, I had so much fine writing this one :'D

It didn't surprise him.

When Timoteo cut off any and every relation with his granddaughter, and the rest of his family but himself for that matter, after her _three day long _abduction that felt like _forever _and _a day_.

He had had his suspicions, about the mafia thing of course. He wasn't an idiot for God's sake.

But when you worked for a powerhouse like that and suddenly disappear, suddenly quit, you raise red flags that only get you murdered (if you're lucky).

No. Better to stay quiet and do your work without complaint. Feign ignorance. Besides, Timoteo payed well, and he wasn't a terrible chess player to boot.

So why expose his granddaughter with the suddenly older, yet still naive eyes to a mafia boss of Timoteo's standing?

Well, Timoteo wasn't a bad man.

Okay, that's a lie.

The truth was, Timoteo was a good man who has become twisted due to the world he currently resides in, and he strives to do as much good as he can.

The point here being, Timoteo tried. Tried _really_ hard. To be good anyways. And when Timoteo confided in Dante that he was all alone in the word (no wife, no sons, no immediate family, all of them _dead_), he felt for him.

Dante remembered, very clearly, when he saw his granddaughter again after her change, and when he decided to have a small part of him in the shape of kin mend Timoteo's cracked heart.

He was a very observant man; it was why he excelled in his trade and why he was still alive among the many architects the mafia hired and accidentally misplaced.

So, to see his pink-dressed-tea-party loving granddaughter leave one winter, and return the next with a backpack full of books she shouldn't be capable of reading at her age and a mature looking countenance that looked almost brooding, it felt _wrong._

A change like _that, _where all of a sudden her eyes were deep _deep _**deep** should _not. Be. _**Possible.**

So he watched her, _studied _the way she _moved _and _breathed _and _spoke _and _just existed,_ until he came to a sensible conclusion.

A conclusion he, at the very least, could be satisfied with.

Despite _all of the wrongs _that _his _little Haru was now showing, all of the things _she couldn't possibly know because she was six for God's sakes just _where _and _how _could this be possible it isn't _**possible—!**

She was still a child.

A child, he noticed, who seemed to _miss _something very _very _dear to her. A naive little girl who looked _confused, _and _scared, _and _alone _at the _strangest_ of times. An innocent little thing, that did not seem to understand _why _or _how _she was who she was and where.

She looked lost.

He didn't remember whether it was immediately after this or gradually after this realization, that he let this strange little girl into his life.

And, after that, she steadily _became his_ little Haru.

So when Timoteo nearly had a mental breakdown in his grief at having lost his family (something he couldn't even _imagine _sympathizing with), Dante brought the little light of his life in the hope that she would light his life too.

And she did.

And he her's.

Until she was kidnapped and who knows what they did to her and her fragile mind but _God why _had he brought his little light into this mess to begin with he was an _idiot _for doing something so stupid in the first place and now Timoteo was trying to move on but he still had this lethargic feel about him and it wasn't _Timoteo _god damn it—

Ahem.

Anyways, when Timoteo walked out of the car, one hand on his cane, the other gently holding a sleeping Haru to his shoulder, the Incubo-Miura family ignored the silver haired teenager who came out after him (or most likely didn't notice him at all) and tackled the older man until the huddle was warm with sobs and wet with tears.

He had been so _so _**relieved.**

He couldn't decide, whether Haru associating with the boss of the Vongola family was such a bad thing it got her kidnapped, or whether Haru associating with the boss of the Vongola family was such a good thing it allowed her to be rescued safely and efficiently, was what mattered.

"Dante?"

"Hmm?" He responded instinctively, looking up from the little crown atop his king chess piece.

Timoteo smiled at him, almost as if he knew what he was thinking, "Your move." He said, waving his hand good naturedly.

"Ah," Dante said, quickly and almost carelessly moving his queen; murmuring a, "Checkmate." without really thinking.

Checkmate. For the fourth time in a row.

* * *

><p><strong>Special: When a Reader Requests Something (the author was really looking forward to writing) with MAJOR SPOILERS AHEAD<strong>

(for _Aliathe_ guessing the River Lethe _and _Thanatos)

_prompt: _maybe something about Haru and Shiro and Shoichi all meeting together for the first time and Haru suddenly realizing, 'oh wait, he's Byakuran'?

_note: _I was planning on doing this in the future arc, so MAJOR SPOILERS AHEAD, I remember a reviewer once shipping Haru and Hibari (even though I think that would be really difficult…ahaha... I gave it a shot)

I hated this silence. Hated it with a passion.

I wasn't stupid (at least not completely). My suspicions of Shiro's romantic feelings for me had only been confirmed a year and a half ago when I first started dating a coworker and he had confessed. But even then… Even then…

My hand rose to touch his elbow: to stimulate a touch that expressed _how much_ I loved him as family as _everything_ **but** a life partner and yet—

Was I even _allowed_ to touch Shiro so causally anymore? Was I—?

"Haru." I jumped, retracting my hand quickly but not quickly enough for him to catch the movement out of the corner of his eye. He stopped abruptly, letting the two steps I had been walking behind him to even out next to him. He shifted the bag of groceries to his right arm and grabbed my right hand with his left; he ran his thumb over the back of my hand in an intimate motion I found so familiar and comforting that my tense shoulders loosened significantly.

"I'm happy for you," He said, as if he had read my thoughts, his voice sincere and expression honest, so _so honest _it— "Don't feel sad about my heartache, Haru-chan. I know, at the very least anyway, that you will _always_ come back to me one way or another."

I don't know whether it was the fact that I was getting married to a man I loved or my best friend's acceptance to this arrangement (most likely the latter) that made my eyes well up with tears, but at that moment, I was so _so grateful _for Shiro being in my life.

"So…" He continued, lips slowly and gently brushing my knuckles, breathing, "don't cry for me, Haru-chan." with the _saddest _of expressions on his face I knew he didn't mean to let show, that I—

"Shiro…" I breathed shakily, bowing my head to hide the tears in my eyes. I didn't want him to see how _happy _his words had made me feel, because it wasn't right to feel that way. Not when he looked so _so sad—_ "I'll always cry for you, Shiro." I choked a laugh, coughed, then said, more seriously and honestly, "I love you."

He smiled lightly and hugged me, an action I greedily grabbed at all the while fisting the dark cloth at his back as I _breathed _and _breathed _to calm all of the emotions welling inside of me. "I love you too, Haru-chan." He murmured against my hair, and I mumbled nonsense into the plain shirt into his chest—

A light body slammed against my back, emitting an "Oof!" as it recoiled and landed on the floor rather roughly. Shiro adjusted his grip to keep me steady despite me being completely able to steady myself, and we both turned towards the stuttering redhead on the floor curiously.

The young boy, wearing large glasses and a striped shirt, stuttered, "I...I'm so sorry! Ahhh…" with a panicked expression and slightly pained and pale features.

"Oh honey, are you okay?" I replied, immediately kneeling in front of him to assess the damage. "You feel pretty hard," I commented, adding, "What's your name?" as I took his hands and helped him up. He was trembling, which softened me up, and looked really really nervous at my touch. "I-I'm fine." He stuttered, flinching at my sudden closeness and swift feeling of my handkerchief against his face. "T-Thanks. I, ah…" He continued, knees shaking as I habitually cleaned him up, "I, should go." He blurted, when I finished, seeming to forget that I asked him for his name, "T-Thanks. Sorry f-for the trouble." He bowed hurriedly, turning to go—but Shiro quickly placed a hand on his shoulder, making him squeak in fear (or surprise, I couldn't tell).

"Shiro," I warned with a frown. The boy was beyond terrified of something, and I didn't like the stress we were suddenly giving him at the moment.

"Just a moment…" He said, looking at the boy's face intently for a few seconds. "Hmmm…" the boy started sweating under the man's gaze, and I was ready to call him off— "Have I met you somewhere before?" Shiro asked, a strangely curious expression on his face.

"N...No…" Alarm bells began ringing in my head at his hesitance, because that could only mean, _he's lying. _I shifted, feeling the weight of the box weapon on my belt— "I think you must have the wrong person." He continued, seeming to gain confidence at the statement.

Shiro suddenly grunted. Hard. His hand flew to his head, features twisting in pain, "Ahhh...Unghh!"

"Shiro?" My heart fluttered in slight panic at the abruptly vivid look of _agony _on his face. I had never seen such an expression before, not even when we fell off of a tree as kids and he broke his arm under my leg. "Shiro!" I repeated, stepping close enough to place a hand on his back, "Shiro, what's wrong?"

His knees buckled with another pained grunt, and I quickly adjusted myself to catch him fully. "My head…" He hissed, "It hurts, _nnggh,_ what _is_ this?!"

"H-Huh?" I swallowed, I had completely forgotten that the boy was still here, "A-Are you alright?"

"Hey!" I snapped, turning towards him. "Call an ambulance!" I ordered, beginning to fish for my cell phone in my pocket.

"No." Shiro managed to grunt, "not yet." He breathed, "It...It feels as though...I'm on the edge of grasping something…" He breathed heavily, sweat beginning to collect along his brow, "Like I'm about to solve...a very important puzzle…"

_What? _What the _hell_ is he _saying? _That's **bullshit—** "Shiro, this isn't the time to—"

"I _have_ met you before." He interrupted, looking right at the shaking boy with a confused expression, "Somewhere else...somewhere completely different from here…"

"Shiro, you're scaring me—" I said, voice rising in panic.

"In another world!" He said with realization, and the every little thing seemed to skip along with my heart beat. _What…?_ "It happened in...university…"

"Shiro, we never went to University…" I corrected, not liking this _heavy_ **heavy**feeling in my stomach.

"Your name was… Irie."

Something _cold _slithered down my spine.

_Wasn't… wasn't there something about a character named Irie and the future…? Something about… _

And then the world seemed to freeze and heat up and _shake _in _horror, _because _it's not possible—please please _please _don't let this be real—_

_...something about a _Byakuran…?

I took a step back, letting the hands I couldn't feel dangle at my sides. My entire body was _numb_ with how fast my mind was working because _everything_ was _twisted _and _wrong _and yet _made so much sense _because Shiro's name when read the in Western fashion first name last name was molded into Byakuran—

—and then everything seemed to break.

There was the sound of a familiar _crack, _and then the _alien_ feel of _heat _at my collarbone. My entire body jerked once at the force, then began to fall. I caught myself on my elbows with teeth clenching force, which was _stupid, _because it stretched at the muscles along my chest and _kamisama _I _screamed _at the _fucking _**pain.**

I _felt _more than _saw, _the Irie kid running away, rather loudly might I add, and through the furious blinking of red across my vision, Shiro—no, Byakuran, because he's _Byakuran—_was pulling me to his chest and applying pressure over my heart and _kamisama stop tugging at me or else I'm going to—_

My vision tunneled, and I tried to grunt something about calling Kyoya which most likely came out as mere grunts but Shiro—no, _Byakuran—_was _crying _and _wailing _and calling for help and _what the fuck, I've been shot before why does this _**hurt so much more—?**

Shiro—_no, Byakuran—_held me, one arm around my waist and spare hand against my gushing wound with his chest against my back which was _so so warm… _His tears kept on landing on my face, and it made me slightly anxious at the thought of any of the drops landing in my eyes—ah, Kyoya's gonna be so so mad at me when he finds out—we were rocking and he was kissing me on the forehead and nose and mouth and—uh-oh, Kyoya's gonna be so so mad when he finds out—this _darkness _beginning to take me was familiar and haunting and Shiro's rambling "I love you"s and "Don't leave me"s and "Please please _please"s _were—

A young man, maybe in his late teens, appeared over Shiro's shoulder. His face was handsome and familiar in the sense that maybe I dreamt of him once upon a time—there was a loud ruffle that seemed to echo inside of me, and then there were black wings behind him.

The more I looked at him, the blurrier Shiro's face became, and it was when the boy took my hand that his name came to me, _Thanatos..._ and then I thought, _Fuck...I screwed up...I'm sorry...I'll make it up to you, Kyoya, I promise..._

_Miura Haru was assassinated several minutes after Ran Shiro received his memories from all parallel worlds. Coincidentally, almost all Miura Haru(s) were with him at the time, and almost all were assassinated at the exact same time._

_Almost all._

* * *

><p><strong>Special: In Which it Becomes Clear (Somewhat, if Not at All)<strong>

(for _Flaming Belladonna _guessing the River Lethe)

_prompt_: I think it would be cool to see what Shiro is thinking again, I really liked that omake in the 3rd chapter. Maybe in chapter [9] when they are eating, or something…

_note:_ Ahaha, this was okay until the end, the end screwed me over ':D

There it was again, he noted.

That face.

A wistful, lonely, sort of face that Ran Shiro was growing more and more annoyed and worried and slightly bitter at catching sight of. And although it was a beautiful look in Miura Haru's eyes, he _did not like _seeing that expression in his presence because _he was here dammit, _there was no reason for her to _feel lonely _in the _first place _when **he is right here**—

He took a deep breath.

"Lately…" His fingers gently prodded her knuckles, and she jumped under his touch, the spoon she had previously been holding clattering onto the tablecloth. "Haru-chan…" his fingertips traced the lines of her exposed palm before trailing to her slender wrist, "has been wearing a sad expression on her face…" his hand retreated, revisiting all of the ridges and tiny, tiny scars he was suddenly curious upon finding, to simply clutch her fingers.

There was a small pause where she simply stared at their joint hands. That small moment of nothingness didn't worry him (yet). But when she took a deep breath and released it shakily, the sudden movement reassured him of her awareness.

Her thumb began to stroke his knuckles, and the familiar motion made the coldness deep _deep_ in his bones go away with a lovely _warmth_. "Sorry." She seemed to breathe, "I wasn't aware…"

She didn't look entirely surprised, but more brought into awareness of a new obstacle, and Shiro wanted nothing more than to bring her hand to his lips and kiss the blemishes along her palm and wrist and shoulders and collarbone and neck and—

"How's everything going over here?"

He swallowed a growl at the sudden interruption and plastered on a charming smile expertly. He caught the waitress looking away from their joint hands sharply, as if she had walked in on an intimate moment and wanted to get as far away as possible as quickly as possible. He was sure Haru noticed too, if her trying to pull away was anything to go by.

Shrio tightened his hold on Haru's hand, ignoring the uncomfortable look she was adopting from the corner of his eye. "We're fine. Thank you." He made sure to add a tone of finality to it, so he didn't understand why she hesitated, stuttered an, "Ah," and turned to Haru with blushing cheeks.

By this time, Haru had already gotten control of her emotions, he could tell. She smiled politely at the young woman and the look seemed to unsettle the waitress somewhat, as she blushed harder and mumbled a quick, "just let me know if you need anything," before scurrying away as quickly as possible.

He didn't like the way Haru's eyes watched the girl's back warily, and he didn't know if it was that particular movement or the burning in his belly that made him ask the stupid question, "Are you embarrassed?"

Really (-_-)

Miura Haru looked surprised, and Ran Shiro already knew the answer that would leave those strawberry colored lips (funny, Haru wasn't terribly fond of strawberries), "Embarrassed? Not really. You know I don't like the attention."

And he did. He knew very well. He knew _Haru _very well.

So _why _had he asked a question he already knew the answer to…?

He looked away from her face, needing to think clearly without being distracted by those big _big _eyes that could engulf him whenever she felt like it. Whether she knew of it or not.

Shiro had been aware of the feelings he felt for Haru for a good while now. These beautiful moments of warmth and love and _I-am-here-for-you_s that were powerful and consuming and made him feel strong and invincible.

And yet sensitive and...shatterable…

_What...has Haru done to me…?_

Was it...bad…? These feelings…?

No. It wasn't bad. It was good. So _so good. _If Ran Shiro had a choice to do it all over again, he would allow Miura Haru to enter his life anew and he would willingly succumb to her love and embraces and being wrapped around her little finger—

He was beginning to suspect these feelings were...love...

"Shiro?" Haru called, voice tentative and slightly worried.

He turned back to Haru, slipping on a familiar grin he knew would relieve her. _Forget all that. All that matters is that I have Haru. _"I'm full. Wanna go, Haru-chan? You still wanna stop by the library, right?"

She gave a shaky sigh, as if remembering she needed to return to the real world, and answered with a, "Yeah…" before she started grabbing her things. "We're splitting the bill this time." She reminded forcibly, and the mere afterthought made him grin in amusement.

"_Hai, hai,"_ He drawled with a small smile, hands habitually looping the checkered scarf around her collar. His fingers brushed the warmth of her neck, but he quickly discarded this detail to lean in, white fringe tickling her forehead, a usual question in his eyes. Haru frowned at the familiar sight, "Shiro—"

"Maybe just this once…?" He interrupted with a teasing twinkle in his eye. She scowled at him and playfully punched him in the gut. He appropriately gave a dramatic, "oof" at the contact as she insisted, "We're _splitting _the bill."

"_Hai, hai,"_ He repeated playfully, grinning widely.

_Ran Shiro was an emotionally unbalanced boy due to the lack of attention from his parents and other personnel, so when Miura Haru came into his life, providing love and security, Ran Shiro's fixation turned into a love that centered her into his entire world._

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks to:<strong>

**Lahel **(thank you, did you enjoy the special?)**, New and Old **(ahaha, that's definitely true)**, Deer-Shifter **(how was that? did you enjoy the special?)**, Aliathe **(i can't believe you were the only one who guessed Thanatos! that's amazing! did you enjoy your special?)**, Flaming Belladonna **(thank you! i was thinking of studing mythology in college, and i'll definitely take some classes if i have space, haha)**, Ibara yuki **(you're welcome! here's an update!)**, Knockoutroundabout **(it's actualy the river lethe)**, meyinet **(i rewrote chapter six, so if you're still curious, you can reread that to get your question answered)**, Midnight0Sky **(you're special will be in the next chapter! promise!)**, Diving in **(nope and nope, i've given multiple hints and the answer in this chapter)**, Princess Banana **(ahaha, can't wait to see how that relationship goes)**, Crystal Blue Butterfly **(thank you)**, Miyushi Black** (here we go!)**,**** Marie **(thank you!)

* * *

><p><em>When I was thinking of the special, I suddenly remembered givemehugs54's review a few chapters back, and then I thought: WELL WHY NOT?<em>

_There's some psychological backing up in why Shiro is so dependent on Haru. I can't remember where exactly I read it, but apparently when a child is eight, his or her mind is trying to find a foothold of stability in their life, and here, Shiro found it in Haru, which is why it's very easy for him to center her into "his entire world."_

_GUYS I'M SO EXCITED FOR THE DAILY LIFE ARC, HERE WE GOOOOOO~!_

_Oh my god, guys, never again. That was way too many specials... ahaha... I still have one more to write, for Midnight0Sky for next chapter, so we'll see how that goes._

_NO SET PAIRINGS YET!_

_Just a reminder ;)_

_Please review!_

_—Alice_


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